Metus
by graysonsflight
Summary: Following Wally's death, Nightwing disappears for three years. When he returns, with an undead Jason in tow, he has to deal with the fact that the people and relationships he left behind are no longer the same:time, and abandonment, changes people. The Bat Family now faces challenges that will take all of them, plus some outside help, to rescue one of their own from certain death.
1. Chapter 1

**AN**: Hey there, this is the sequel to "A Fine Line." It can absolutely be read on its own – the other story just provides a bit more information. This story is a collaboration with my partner, Jack, who doesn't have an account. Each segment within chapter is from the perspective of a different Batkid. As a disclaimer, I don't own any of the DC characters that you see, or the Young Justice universe, which this is set in. Thanks for reading; all feedback is appreciated.

**_Chapter One_**

It had been a long night. Jason was sore and cold and extremely tired. This whole _not killing_ thing took a lot more energy out of him than he had remembered. He ran a hand through his slightly unkempt hair, his palm sliding wearily over his face were a mask should have been. Jason felt naked and exposed in civilian clothes, but when Oracle called a meeting, you answered your summons or faced the wrath of Big Sister. The location of the meeting still confused him, but he was sure Barbara had her reasons; she always did.

He slunk into the diner, noticing only a bored, tired looking woman in a waitress's apron manning the counter. The corners of his mouth tipped into a smug smile. He was the first one here – which meant for once _he'd_ be the one to get the most coveted seat – the one with his back to the wall and eyes on the door. Dickie was going to be pissed.

"Just you?" the woman asked, reaching her hand down for a menu. Jason shook his head.

"Big table," he said holding each hand on either side of his head. The waitress frowned a little, taking in Jason's battered leather jacket and clearly well loved jeans. He figured he was being sized up, to see if his tip was going to be worth the hassle. She must have decided he was good enough because she flicked her hand towards the back of the room.

"Help yourself," she grabbed a stack of menus and followed him to the table. "Coffee, hon?"

Jason nodded, his hands rubbing over his face again. "Yes," he groaned. "Lots." He looked up to meet her eyes through his fingers. "I mean, yes, please. The other people coming are going to want some too." If he was going to attempt this good-boy gig, the least he could do was attempt to use the manners his mother had tried to teach him when she wasn't tweaking out on something.

The waitress returned less than a minute later, setting a steaming cup of coffee down in front of him. Jason reached for the sugar and began pouring. The waitress watched him a moment with her eyebrow cocked.

"How many you expecting?" she asked, still watching wearily as Jason kept pouring.

He placed the sugar back on the table, not in the least bit ashamed. With now free hands he began ticking off silent names on his fingers.

"At least six more," he told her. "But only four more coffees. Might as well have the other stuff waiting. Can I get a hot chocolate and a tea?"

"Uh-huh," the woman replied, still eyeing his heavily sugared coffee skeptically. As she turned to leave, the bell on the front door jangled. A slender young woman with chin length black hair held the door open as a redhead in a wheelchair glided her way in followed by a chattering blonde. The She-Bats had arrived. Barbara smiled at him tiredly as she wheeled herself over to their table.

"Jason," she greeted warmly. He nodded towards her, and edged himself over slightly as the darker haired girl seated herself next to him with out a sound.

"Hey, Cass," he said quietly as the waitress returned with a tray full of mugs.

"Who gets what?" the woman asked with a sigh. The woman glanced around at the women who had entered. Barbara with her clean, sharp looking sweater and well-kept hair, Cass with neatly pressed black jeans, and Stephanie sporting a spotless purple pea coat. The waitress must have decided that these three made up for Jason's back streets of Gotham appearance because she smiled at them.

Cass gratefully reached her hands out to take the mug of tea while the other two women received their coffee with smiles and thanks. "And the other three?"

"Oh, they should be here any minute," the blonde, Stephanie, offered with a wave of her hand. She leaned around from Cassie's other side to smile at Jason. "Damian'll appreciate the fact that you have his coco waiting. The little princeling has been getting moody again. I think its because he misses me." Jason didn't even try to hide the roll of his eyes.

"Or it's because the Big Guy is off world again, for the second time this month," Jason offered, a teasing smirk on his face.

Stephanie stuck her tongue out before smiling back and happily adding cream and sugar to her coffee.

Jason watched Barbara as she slowly stirred her own drink. She was already lost in her own head. After a practiced nonchalant sip of his coffee, he turned his eyes more fully to the woman at the end of the table.

"So what's the deal, Babs?" he asked, steaming mug pressed against his temple. "Why here?"

"I needed to get out," she shrugged, a smile on her lips. "And besides, Steph was craving some diner waffles." Stephanie nodded unapologetically and hailed the waitress to place her order. She ordered for everyone else too. When it came to food, this group could be pretty predictable. Before long, the table was covered in food. Jason, having quickly finished his own bacon was eying the three slices on Tim's plate greedily. The other three still hadn't arrived, by the way Barbara kept shifting, he figured this might get interesting when they finally did show.

"This was a mistake," he caught Barbara saying under her breathe. Both he and Cass turned to look at her.

"I could go look?" Cassie offered, all ready starting to lift herself from her seat, but Barbara stopped her with a wave.

"No, it's fine, they'll be here. It's just…" Jason watched Barbara carefully. He knew she and Dick had been fighting again and their on-again-off-again relationship was definitely in the off mode at the moment, but he could tell it was something more than that. He drained his coffee cup before setting it down and reaching for Dick's. No sense in letting good coffee get cold. He was about to take it when he remembered cold was exactly how Dick preferred it. He hesitated, torn between wanting to piss his self-proclaimed big brother off, and not wanting to agitate Barbara further. There was something going on. Jason reached for Timmy's mug instead; if he couldn't have his bacon, he'd settle for his coffee.

"Wanna tell me what's really going on?" he asked seriously. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Stephanie flinch, her fork pausing half way to her mouth. Beside him, Jason could feel Cass stiffen ever so slightly.

Barbara sighed heavily, running her hands over her face in a way Jason recognized all too well. He wondered silently if it was a trait they had _all_ picked up from the Big Guy. She paused to smile at the waitress who refilled their coffee cups, even the one in front of Tim's empty seat. Once the woman had left, Barbara turned back to him, looking much older than her twenty-two years.

"Wait," she said heavily. "Just wait until the boys are all here."

It had been a long night. Three attempted muggings, two attempts at grand theft auto, and one group of rag tag jewel thieves with surprisingly strong left hooks. Then again, it was always a long night for Dick Grayson when Batman was on League assignment a galaxy or two away. Nightwing sighed, hearing the crackle of chatter in his earpiece as he was finishing the final knot around a group of would-be jewel thieves. There had been no way for him to leave one of the two behind, so he'd had no choice but to bring them both out on patrol.

"Would you two please, _please_, stop fighting," he begged the two other boys on his frequency. He could hear both Tim and Damian arguing on the rooftop above him. It was nothing serious, he knew, but it was more than enough to give him a splitting headache. With one last tug of the rope, Nightwing turned his back on the thieves, pulled out his grappling gun, and shot a line back up to the top of the building.

Both Damian, with his hood pulled up over his close cropped hair, and Tim, were standing with their arms cross glowering at each other.

"That costume," Damian began, "Is by far the most ridiculous thing I have every seen."

Dick looked sideways at Tim's newest costume design. He cringed slightly as he took in what appeared to be feathers lining his arms before furrowing out into a cape behind him. If Dick was honest, it did look a little…_overdramatic_… but he had made a few of his own costume mistakes and wasn't going to be the one to bring Tim down.

"It is not!" Tim fired back, flicking his wrists out to make the feathers go taut. "Look, these feathers are specially designed to turn my cape into a glider. It's the closest we can come to actually flying." Damian eyed the feathers wearily, his glower remaining.  
"I wouldn't be caught dead in something so preposterous. You're like the new Icarus – I can only hope you share his fate."

Dick rubbed both hands over his own face roughly. He wished, for probably the hundredth time that day, that Damian spoke like a normal eleven year old; maybe if he did, Tim would be able to resist arguing with the kid. As it was, neither one of them could help themselves. He could see Tim about to give some type of retort when he held up his hands to stop them.

"Enough," he pleaded. "We're late as it is."

Tim flicked his wrist for a second time and his feathers relaxed as he checked his watch.

"Babs is going to kill us," he announced. "We were supposed to be there more than thirty minutes ago."

"_Tt_," Damian replied, finally uncrossing his arms from his chest. "Todd has probably already seized the prime seat as well." He was of course referring to the only seat at any table where you could have both your back to the wall, and your eyes on the door. It was a thing with them. The only time it was a non-issue was when they were all eating with Bruce – and then there was no question in anyone's mind who got to have the good seat.

Dick bent down to scoop up the large duffle bag at the younger boy's feet, swinging it on to his shoulder. It contained civvies for the three of them, along with Damian's helmet for Dick's motorcycle. Both Dick and Tim's bikes were stashed in an alleyway not too far off.

"Let me worry about Barbara," he told them, firing off his grappling gun. "And Robin," he said, his hand resting on Damian's shoulder, "try to behave." Dick was just about to jump from the building ledge when Tim stopped him.

"Wait! Let me show you how the glider works." The teen wiped his wrists out hard brining the improvised wings to attention, took a few steps back, and then with a running leap threw himself from the building. Both Dick and Damian stared down after him.

"When he does break his ankles," Damian started firing off his own grapple gun. "You can bet I won't be offering to help him with his chores around the manor." The boy swung himself down from the building and into the alley; Dick following close behind. He'd have to tell Tim later he was actually pretty impressed with his new wings.

He was the last one to make it to the bikes, the other two sat, wordlessly glaring at each other. Whatever it was he'd missed, Dick's headache was grateful for it. Bending down, he unzipped the bag and started tossing jeans, shirts and reinforced jackets at the other two boys. With Damian's helmet, they hadn't had room for spare shoes, so Dick was just glad all of their boots could easily pass as motorcycle shoes. He kicked the steel toes off to quickly change out one pair of pants for another.

After they'd dressed, and Dick had crammed their Kevlar plates, titanium weave bodysuits, and yes, even Tim's feathers into the now much heavier duffle bag, he handed over Damian's helmet. It had been a gift for Damian's latest birthday: black with streaks of yellow and green flying back from the safety visor, a small, barely noticeable little bird soaring near the crown of his head.

"Safety first, Babybird." He pulled his own helmet off the back of the bike, and smiled as he pulled it snuggly over his head and face. It felt good to key in the ignition, the machine coming to life at his touch. Tim kicked his own bike into gear and started off towards the diner.

"Do try not to drive like you're Pennyworth's age this time, Grayson," Damian told him. He could feel the younger boy tucking himself on the back of the bike, his arms wrapping around him, and gripping on to his jacket with gloved hands. Bruce, who knew how Dick actually liked to drive, had insisted Damian always wear full gear before getting onto the back of Dick's bike. _Funny_, Dick thought as he peeled his way out of the ally. How Bruce had trusted him on a modified bike when he was Damian's age, but was uncomfortable with the littlest Robin even being a passenger. He laughed to himself as he revved the engine, hitting the gas to catch up to Tim. Dick could feel Damian's grip getting tighter, but he could also feel what he swore must have been the rumble of laughter coming from the boy. Not that Damian Wayne would ever admit to such folly. Dick felt himself let out a whoop of excitement as he pushed the bike faster. Maybe tonight wouldn't be such a bad night after all.

It had been a long night. Or at least, it had been a long last four hours. Barbara Gordon tried to sit calmly, tried to sip her coffee without shaking. Both Stephanie and Cass had _some_ idea about what was going on. They had both returned to the tower as soon as Barbara had accidentally started cursing a blue streak into their com-links.

Things had been going fine. The girls had been on patrol – and she had eyes on both Jason flying solo, and Dick out with Tim and Damian. The city was being well cared for in Bruce's absence. All things considered, it had been a relatively quiet night in Gotham. Sure, there had been your standard criminals, but Barbara was willing to call it a good night when none of the Arkham residents were running amuck. Everything had been running smoothly. That was until Barbara's computer had started _pinging._ It was a warning, but not just any warning. Barbara's computer only made this particular sound when some spyware she'd installed on few less than reputable websites was triggered.

"What do you got for me, baby?" she had whispered, minimizing all other windows. Her eyes had briefly scanned the page, hitting every highlighted word like a gunshot. _Ransom. Reward. Venom. __**Damian Wayne.**_ She had had to read through the message thread three times before she started finding the was coded – it was always coded – but in the three years Dick had gone on hiatus, Barbara had learned all of his hacking tricks, and then came up with a fair number of her own. She hadn't been able to make sense of all of it, but what she could was alarming enough. That's when she had started swearing. That's when the girls came back, and when Barbara hacked into the comm frequencies of all four of the batboys. She had been able to calm herself enough to serenely inform them that their presence was requested tonight at the diner at West and 12th. She had phrased it as a request, but all of them knew she wasn't giving them a choice. Dick had tried to argue with her, but when Jason, with all of their comms patched together promised he'd be there, Dick wasn't left with much of a choice. All of them would come.

She could feel Jason's eyes on her as he listened to Stephanie chatter. Barbara was grateful, she knew Steph was talking to cover for her; she kept thinking up new topics so Jason wouldn't have time to start asking questions. The waitress made eye-contact with Barbara, before flicking her eyes to the extra empty seats; a bowl of cereal with milk waiting, beside it what had once been bacon, eggs, and toast – but was now only eggs and toast, and the small half-dollar pancakes smothered in fruit that Damian would never admit he loved. Barbara just smiled with a shrug and the waitress moved on, placing herself back at the very front of the diner.

The slight tinkling of bells attached to the door was the next thing to startle Barbara from her thoughts. All three of her missing boys wandered in. Dick strode in first with his easy grace, soft leather jacket, but a newly formed burse on his right cheek. Tim, was already eyeing every possible exit and entrance in the diner, even though he'd been here at least fives times before. And Damian, with his inexplicable air of superiority, so completely out of place on an eleven-year-old boy.

Dick came over, smiled at the seat Jason had claimed. He let both Tim and Damian slide into the booth, before plopping himself down on the end and turning his blue eyes on Barbara.

"You rang?" he asked with a grin. He was trying to pacify her. Trying to make up for the fact that they hadn't spoke outside of mission briefings for the last week and a half. Barbara met his gaze with a raised eyebrow.

"You're late," she told him simply. There was no way a smile was going to calm her nerves. Not this time.

"Sorry, Babs," Tim said, interrupting the staring contest before it had time to start. "We got held up, and then I wanted to show off my new cost-" Barbara could hear the thud of Damian kicking Tim under the table.

"His new shoes," the smaller boy supplied, eyeing the waitress. He reached out for his hot chocolate, sighing seriously when he realized it had gone cold.

"Really?" Stephanie asked as she leaned around both Cass and Jason. "Shoes, D? That's the best you could come up with?"

Damian turned his sharp eyes on her before looking down his nose at the plate in front of him.

"Really, Brown? You ordered me something off the children's menu? And you're chastising me?"

Barbara opened her mouth to try and rein this meeting in before it got completely out of control, but Jason stopped her with a laugh.

"If you're really that offended, kid, you can order something else. I'll eat it."

Damian sighed more deeply than Barbara though pancakes really deserved, but he did pick up his fork.

"No," he said. "It's here. I might as well eat it."

She watched as the three began eating, wanting to start right away, but not wanting to at the same time. If only for this brief moment in time, she could pretend that they were some type of normal. But that was a lie.

"We have a problem," she heard herself say before she had even realized she was going to. All six pairs of eyes turned their attention to her. Dick's slid sideways to the waitress, but she was ignoring them completely.

"Here, Babs?" he asked, a warning in his voice. But Barbara knew that it had to be here. It had to be somewhere open. Somewhere were Dick would think twice before making a scene. She nodded.

"There's been some talk on the Web. A few sites we look after. There's something going down, and it revolves around a kidnapping." She couldn't stop her eyes from moving to Damian. He was a brat, and full of this anger Barbara couldn't even begin to understand, but sitting there, watching him with a mouth full of pancakes, she knew without a doubt that anyone of the people at this table would give their lives to keep him safe. The strong clearing of Dick's throat tore her back to reality.

"I really don't think this is something that everyone needs to hear, Babs," he said bluntly. His eyes were focused only on her, refusing to look to his side, to where Damian sat.

"All of them have every right to know when a threat has been - "

"Barbara," he interrupted, his voice trying to imitate the commanding calm of Bruce – and failing. "You don't know how credible this is and bringing panic-"

"Excuse me?" she said, taking her turn at interrupting. "You don't think I looked into it? You don't think that I would bring this up if it wasn't an issue?"

"I don't think you've done enough, no. Not if this is the first I'm hearing of -"

"Right. Because you're the end all be all aren't you?" Both of their voices were controlled whispers. Carrying no further than the seven people at the table. But the tension was a physical thing, hanging in the air.

Stephanie placed her arms down heavily on the table, temporarily distracting them both.

"Cover your ears, D," she said with a sigh. "Mommy and Daddy are fighting at the dinner table."

"…Again…" Tim and Cassie added simultaneously.

Both Barbara and Dick shared a look, and she nodded. He stood from his seat without a word, his hands moving towards the back of her chair as if to guide her out.

"I got it," she said sharply before rolling herself back from the table and towards the door. Dick turned to face the others, his hands coming up to grip the back of his neck.

"We'll be back," he said. "Order whatever else you want. Bruce is paying." He turned to follow Barbara to the front of the diner. Without a word he held the door for her and they both slipped out into the night.

Barbara led the way, bringing him away from the front door and over towards the back of the building.

"Look, Babs," Dick started, spreading his hands apologetically. "It isn't that I don't trust you, but you can't… you can't…" he trailed off, eyes moving to the ground.

"I can't let everyone know what's going on? I have to leave some people in the dark?" she asked, a bitter edge in her voice. Dick, eyes still on the pavement, scrubbed both hands over his face.

"I have already apologized for that. I did what I thought I had to do."

Barbara laughed, eyes burning into him.

"That's not how I run my team," she told him. His eyes flew up to meet hers, but he stayed silent. "Just because he's gone, doesn't mean you're automatically in charge."

"Barbara, I have been a part of this team a lot longer than-"

"You ran away," she almost yelled, her voice shaking with the effort of staying quiet. "You ran away for three years, Dick. Without a word to me, or Tim, or even Bruce. Everyone else might be able to let that one go, but I'm still a little pissed."

She could feel his eyes on her now, feel the way he was holding something back – something that probably would have hurt, and she wanted to do the same, but she couldn't. This particular fight had been brewing from the moment he'd walked away, and it had been eating her from the inside out the whole year and a half he had been back.

"You may not realize it," she continued, her voice growing calmer. "But I was the one who stepped up. I was second in command. Hell, half the time I was it," she laughed again, her arms wrapping around her body.

"I even had to boss Bruce around a few times. I was the one who had to talk him through the realization he had a ten-year-old son he'd never known about. I helped Tim through his first break-up, oh and the _death of his father_. I was there. Just because you're back, doesn't automatically make you the leader. Three years is a long time. Things change."

Barbara watched as Dick's shoulders dropped. She almost felt sorry for yelling at him. She was about to apologize for crossing a line when his eyes locked with hers, and then slid to her chair.

"I know…" he said, his voice sounding pained. "I know I let you down…and…"

"Are you serious?" she asked him, dumbfounded. "For the love of… I'm not talking about this goddamn chair!" she let herself yell. "I have done more good sitting," she paused, swallowing her anger down, bringing her voice down with it. "I have done more good sitting in this chair than I ever did flying over the roof tops with a target painted on my chest."

Barbara slipped her hands down to the wheels of her chair, pushing forward and back towards the door.

"There is a legitimate threat of kidnapping to deal with right now," she reminded him, her voice completely back to business. "I'm going back inside, and I'm going to let the rest of them know what's going on."

With her back to him she pushed herself a little further, willing herself not to cry. She was still angry, but she refused to bring that back into the diner. No one else should have to deal with her anger. It had been a very long night, and if this was any indication, it was only going to get longer.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN**: Welcome back! We're going to be introducing some familiar faces here :) As a reminder, this story is a collaboration with my partner, Jack, who doesn't have an account. Each segment within chapter is from the perspective of a different Batkid. As a disclaimer, I don't own any of the DC characters that you see, or the Young Justice universe, which this is set in. Thanks for reading; all feedback is appreciated.

**_Chapter 2_**

It was going to be a long night. Tim could already feel it. He checked his watch with as much stealth as he could manage. He knew that Cass had seen him anyway, and she nodded at him. Dick and Barbara had already been outside for more than seven minutes. These days, anytime their private conversations lasted more than two minutes, Tim started fearing for Dick's life. Ever since he had come home, a year and a half ago, things had gotten infinitely more complicated. It wasn't just that Dick had some how managed to bring Jason, who should have been dead, back with him either. Jason had actually probably helped to ease some of the tension. It wasn't that Tim hadn't missed Dick, because he had. He had missed both of his brothers. Even though he had no reason to believe that Dick was dead, Tim had mourned him. In truth, he had felt slightly abandoned. So he did pretty much the only thing he could – he had turned to Barbara – because she knew what it felt like to be left behind.

Tim had just gotten used to the fact that Dick was gone, and that he probably wasn't going to be coming back home. He had gotten used to having Barbara in charge when Bruce was away. Barbara was who he went to Wonder Girl had decided they'd worked better as just friends (he had pretty much agreed with her anyway). He'd gone to her when he started trying to figure out how he felt about Steph (he still really wasn't completely sure what was going on there). And she was who he would talk to when Damian showed up and became the most annoying thing to happen since… since ever.

"Tim, come back to us," Steph half sang, interrupting his thoughts. Tim looked around, noticing that three pairs of eyes were trained on him; Damian was too busy scowling at his pancakes.

"What's going on in that head of yours?" Jason asked, reaching over and stealing the rest of his coffee, adding in way more sugar than was truly necessary. Tim shrugged.

"They've been out there a long time," he said with a sigh.

"Seven minutes," Cass added solemnly. Tim noticed that she was not wearing any type of watch.

"You think we need to send out a peacemaker?" Steph offered, but Jason shook his head.

"They're big kids, guys. They can handle it on their own. And if Dick does end up putting his foot in his mouth, Babs will have no trouble leaving him bleeding." Tim watched as Jason's eyes shifted, squinting as though he could see through the wall and outside the diner, before traveling back to land on the youngest member of their table.

"How you doing, Kid?" he asked. Damian didn't even bother looking up.

"Fine," he said, stabbing his fork into a helpless strawberry. _Oh yeah,_ Tim thought dismally, this was about the Demon Child.

"I'm sure everything is going to be fine," Steph said with a smile as bright as the sun. "No one's going to be able to touch you with all of us around."

"_Tt,_" Damian scoffed, finally raising his eyes with a sneer. "Like I need _your_ protection, Brown. Besides, knowing you – you'd try to hug these would be kidnapper's to death."

Tim tensed his body waiting for the verbal argument to start, his own ammunition waiting on the tip of his tongue, but Steph only laughed.

"Aww, Baby Bird, is that you saying you want a hug?"

"If you so much as touch me, so help me, I will-"

"It will be okay," Cass interrupted, pointing towards the door. Barbara was already half way to them as Dick came through the door, his hand moving over his face. When Tim managed to catch his eye, Dick smiled. Tim knew with out a doubt it was one of the fakest smiles Dick had ever given.

"As I was saying," Barbara announced, as though she had only paused to breathe. "There is a threat. And it is credible." She turned her eyes easily towards Damian. "You," she said, "Are to have someone with you at all times, is that clear?" Damian just continued to eat his pancakes with out any indication he'd heard her. Tim was pretty sure this was going to end badly.

"Damian Wayne," Barbara hissed low, "I know that you heard me, and I know that you think your tougher than any group of thugs out there, but until we know more, you're going to find yourself with a shadow everywhere you go."

Tim could feel the anger rolling off of Damian in waves of heat. The smaller boy would have fought him tooth and nail if Tim had dared to use that tone of voice with him – but there was something in Barbara's voice that spoke of finality. She was the only one who could even come close to Bruce's power when it came to that voice.

"I understand," Damian bit out.

"Good."

Everyone went back to their 11:18 PM breakfasts without a word. Tim shivered at the way the mood had changed. Dick sat rigidly in his seat, coffee mug pressed to his temple and his cereal ignored. Barbara was trying not to make it obvious that she was checking her phone, probably looking for any more updates into the kidnapping plot. Even Steph was silent, biting her lip as she looked into the bottom of her coffee cup. But what made Tim the most nervous was Damian. Damian had let his anger slip away; he was on his absolute best behavior, something Tim never trusted. The kid was already up to something, and Tim had a feeling that _something_ was only going to cause him more stress. He was grateful when Jason finally broke the oppressive stillness.

"So, who wants to go let off some steam?" He asked, but his eyes were fixed on Dick. "There's bound to be a few baddies still up at this hour."

"Perfect!" Steph said with a smile, and an unnecessarily loud thunk of her empty coffee mug on the table. "Tim and I can take the kid out – find things to break." Tim was about to inform Steph that this was the worst possible idea unless the "things" she was looking for them to be breaking were each other, when Damian surprised him.

"I suppose I could," he said. "I might be able to teach you how to do it properly, and you'll find Drake's new…_shoes_… as helplessly flamboyant as I did."

Both of them were already sliding and shifting out of their seats, when Dick quickly on his feet, placed a hand on Damian's shoulder.

"Maybe I should come along," he offered, but everyone knew it wasn't a question. Damian pulled back from him, the anger back, flashing across his face. Tim was shocked. Normally, that look was reserved for him.

"Oh?" Damian said, his voice scathing. "So you can filter the information I'm allowed to hear? I'm pretty sure you can do that better from back home, Grayson." Dick flinched, taking a step back as though he'd been hit. Tim quickly got up from the table, moving to stand beside Dick, waiting.

"Damian… I…" but the boy had already turned his back, moving to stand beside Stephanie.

Tim wanted to say something, but he didn't know what. Dick wasn't used to being on the end of that kind of Damian Rage, and it was more than obvious it had hurt.

"Maybe you can help Barb- " Tim tried to say but the redhead in question cut him off quickly.

"No. Cass is already helping me."

Tim didn't miss the slight surprise that flitted through Cass's eyes, but she said nothing. Once again, it was Jason who stepped up to settle the mood, sliding effortlessly out of his seat and shoving Dick almost playfully in the arm. That too was an absolute role reversal. Tim was pretty sure every one of them was now completely out of their comfort zone.

"Looks like you're stuck with me for the rest of the night then, Dickie."

"Yeah," Dick said dryly, eyes still trained on Damian's back.

Barbara smiled at Tim as she pushed herself back from the table. She nodded to Jason, and ignored Dick completely.

"I'll be in touch," she promised, Cass by her side. The younger girl held back a second as Barbara headed towards the door. She leaned in towards Tim with a grim look on her face.

"Watch him," she warned. "He's up to something." Tim nodded, not needing her to tell him which him she was referring to. Damian was without a doubt concocting something in that devious little head of his – something that would be nothing but trouble.

Tim waited until the last second to follow after Steph and Damian, confused and thoroughly curious as to how this night had changed so quickly. He checked his watch again: 11:29 PM. Not for the first time in the year and a half since Jason had been back, Tim wished he hadn't let him take so much of his coffee. He knew his night was about to get a lot longer.

Things were not going exactly as planed. Damian wasn't sure when, exactly, he had lost control of the situation, but there was no denying that he had screwed up. Two hours ago, he had been sitting with his eclectic hodgepodge of a family in some shabby diner the rest of them all seemed to like. Two hours ago, he had learned that there was some group of imbecilic meatheads who had hatched a plan to kidnap him. Him, Damian Wayne, of all people; the very idea was ridiculous.

Thirty minutes ago, he had been able to give his babysitters the slip. It really had been foolish for everyone to agree to let him go with Brown and Drake. Brown was too busy believing in the best of him to know when he was planning on abusing that trust, and Drake trusted him so little it was far too easy to distract him long enough to run. All it had taken was one mugging. The very first one they'd come to. He'd had taken charge, told them to go at the group of three thugs from the front while he'd circle in from the back. He wondered blandly how long it would take them to realize he had deceived them.

As he struggled with the rope currently binding his hands and elbows together, Damian was willing to admit that he had made a mistake; but probably because there was no one around to hear of his failure. He knew that when Dick or Barbara or Alfred got a hold of him, he was going to be read the riot act. Not to mention the lecture his father was sure to give him when he finally got home. Damian figured it wouldn't be long until they realized he was missing, and Barbara would send them back out to find him and bring him back – if only so that she could kill him herself.

It hadn't been hard to find the men who were after him. Damian had made his way to the dirtiest bar he could find, picked an unlucky scumbag relieving himself behind a dumpster, and interrogated him. With his Robin costume firmly in place, boots, cape, gloves, mask, everything, the thug had spilled his guts. What Damian hadn't been expecting, was that there was apparently a hit out for him, for _Robin_, out as well. He hadn't even had time to let go of the guy's shirt before another group was on him. Damian normally would have been able to fight off a group of five men. He would have had to work at it, but with his speed and intelligence, it shouldn't have been a problem. And it hadn't been, until he'd felt the prick of a needle, and the slow mind numbing, infuriating, haze that came over him.

"Uh-uh, niño. We can't have you all scratched up."

Damian had struggled at the time to place the voice, but now, crammed into a slightly too small storage unit, he was beginning to remember. _Bane._ Damian felt like he wanted to scream. His gloves and his boots had been taken, along with his utility belt. He felt it a small, somewhat useless victory that he could still feel the mask plastered to his face. He cursed himself over and over again in several different languages for allowing this to happen.

As he struggled, banging his body against the unyielding metal of his crate, an icy ball of dread began to materialize in his stomach. If they had been after Damian Wayne, and they had gotten a hold of Robin, who could possibly be behind this? How did they know, and what other information did they have?

He had no idea how long he had been under the effects of the sedative, nor how long they had been traveling for, but it was still dark when they opened the hatch of his crate. Right away, Bane's hand was wrapped around his throat.

"Now," the man crooned. "We can do this the easy way, or we can do this the hard way." The man lifted him from the box by his neck. Instantly, Damian began to struggle, kicking out his legs and trying to twist his shoulder. The hand only tightened.

"Careful Little Bird. It'd be a shame for your brothers to find nothing but a corpse." Damian stilled glaring up at Bane through his mask. The icy in his stomach began to spread, snaking its way up his limbs. Bane was smart, and often underestimated, he knew, but there was no logical explanation he could find for why Bane would know who he was beneath the mask.

"Oh, Mr. Bane, please," came a new voice from somewhere behind Damian and just off to the left. "You need to treat our guest a bit more, how do I put this, gently." A man in a worn out suit and sunken eyes slid into Damian's line of sight, just as Bane released his grip on his throat and settled him onto the ground, a firm hand still locking itself onto his arms.

"Allow me to introduce myself," the man said with a twisted smile. "My name is Dr. Jonathan Crane."

"Scarecrow," Damian retorted with a sneer. The man rolled his eyes before lowering himself to Damian's level.

"I really do prefer Dr. Crane," he said. "Regardless, your grandfather and some of his…associates have placed a good deal of money into some of my newest research. And your grandfather suggested that if I were to acquire you, some wonderful new test subjects might appear on this island, which Mr. Bane has graciously agreed to share with me."

_Of course,_ Damian thought. Of course his grandfather would be involved.

"Well clearly you've been misinformed, Doctor," Damian spat. "With Batman away I hardly think anyone will be coming by to be your lab rat." The man shot out a hand, taking hold of his hair.

"You know, _Damian,_" he hissed, his mouth pressed too close to Damian's ear. "I don't think that's quite right. Haven't you always wondered what Nightwing feared most? Or the Hood? Isn't he recently back from the dead? I bet his nightmares would be beautiful to watch." Damian began to struggle again, his body thrashing almost without giving his brain long enough to give it permission, but Dr. Crane only laughed.

"Or what about the girls? I'd love to know why the quiet one doesn't talk. I bet that's tied to her fears. But, I must say, I wouldn't mind the smiley one either. You have to watch out for them. Sometimes, it's the ones who smile that have the most stunning terror lurking just behind those sparkling eyes."

Damian allowed his body to still, trying hard to focus on his breathing, trying to find a way out of this. Preferably a way that kept the others far, far away from this damned island.

"Don't worry," Dr. Crane promised, pulling a syringe. "I won't be using any of my new nightmare toxin on you." He slid the needle into the exposed skin at Damian's wrist. "This is just a sedative, to help keep you…shall we say…docile, while we lure in the rest of you Bat brats."

The fire was back, chasing the ice from his veins. Damian tried to fight it off. He tried uselessly to keep his eyes open and his body alert. As his eyes betrayed him, fluttering shut against his will, he knew. He knew without a doubt, that this, this wasn't going to end well.

Things were not going exactly as planned. Stephanie bit down on her bottom lip hard as she made her way back towards the Clock Tower. Literally, they had left the little stinker alone for five minutes. _Five_. And somehow, he still managed to vanish without any trace. She and Tim had spent the better part of an hour scouring the streets for the littlest bird, but nothing, not even a whisper of information was left. Admittedly, Stephanie knew that they should have called it in right away. As soon as they had realized he wasn't where he was supposed to be, she and Tim should have called the others. But Tim hadn't wanted to. He had been nervous. Stephanie figured he didn't want to have to face the others, and admit to loosing the kid.

She could understand that, honestly, she could, but now she was the one who was going back to face Barbara. And Oracle was going to be pissed.

"_Look, you head back to the Clock Tower and tell Babs and Cass. I'll find the guys, we'll regroup and then we'll find him,"_ Tim had said. That plan had sounded all right at the time, but the closer she got to the tower, the less faith in it Stephanie had. Tim had told her to wait, not to call it in, to wait until she was physically there, but now without him, she knew that plan was a load of crap.

"Oracle?" she called into her communicator, still flying high over the rooftops of Gotham.

"I read you, Steph. What's up?"

Stephanie cringed at how tired Barbara sounded. She knew that the older woman had not been sleeping very much. She also knew that this news would more than likely push her saint like patience passed the breaking point.

"There was a problem," Steph blurted out, already picking up her speed. "D tricked us, Babs. He got away. And we can't find him."

The quiet that followed hurt more than any amount of yelling ever could. "I'm almost back," she added in, timidly.

"This isn't your fault," Barbara soothed, the sound of her fingers on the keys of her computer clicking frantically. "Is Red Robin with you or…"

"No, he went to find Nightwing and Hood. He said we'd regroup, and then figure this out, together." The steady stream of curses that blew out of Barbara's mouth made Steph trip in surprise. "Babs, he said we'd do it together," she said once she'd regained her footing.

Stephanie landed on the roof of the Clock Tower, swinging her body in through an open window and on to Bab's computer platform. She took in everything as quickly as possible, already whipping her cowl up and off of her face. Cassandra was standing just inside the shadows, already suited up with her mask in her hands. Barbara sat her eyes glued to one of her four monitors, her hands resting a toped her head.

"Their communicators are off line," she said quietly.

Stephanie shook her head vehemently. "No," she said. "Try again. Tim said that we would do this together. He wouldn't lie to me. Not to me."

"Probably no choice," Cass offered solemnly.

"They aren't that stupid," Stephanie insisted. "They wouldn't go off without a plan, without…"

Barbara cut her off with a wave of her hand as she turned to face them both. "Tim alone wouldn't," she clarified. "Jason would."

"But Dick…?" Stephanie tried to reason, her hands balled into tight fists.

"He's upset," Barbara says with a shrug. "He'll be mad because he didn't take me seriously. He'll be mad because they went after family."

"So he's going to be reckless?" Stephanie almost shouted before forcing herself to choke back her fear.

"If you thought it was your fault," Cass says, coming to stand beside her, "Wouldn't you?" Both girls turn their eyes towards Barbara, waiting for instructions.

"We can find them?" Cass asks hesitantly. But Barbara just shakes her head.

"It'll be a few minutes still, Dick scrambled the password to get into their GPS tracking. I can crack it, but I'll need a little bit of time. He's stressed so it's sloppy. It won't take long."

Stephanie can feel her body staring to tremble, unable to shake her growing guilt. She watches intently as Barbara types away at her computer, the redhead's eyes darting back and forth from screen to screen. After another minute, she lets out another four-letter word, scrubbing her hands over her face.

"12,008," Barbara sighs with a bitter smile. "When we do find them, there's a good chance I'm going to kill him – or all of them. I haven't decided yet."

"Not as sloppy as you thought?" Steph asked, her eyes trying to follow the number sequences on the screen.

"Either that, or he made Timmy do it," Barbara confirmed, quickly minimizing one of her open windows. She whirled her chair around to face the pair of them. "I need you to go find someone," she said.

Twenty minutes later, Stephanie found herself and Cass fully suited up in one of the less pleasant neighborhood of Gotham. It wasn't Crime Alley, but it certainly wasn't much better.

"You're sure this was where Oracle said she'd…" she ccouldn;t help but trail off as she looks around. The inside of the apartment they were currently breaking into was bare at best. Stephanie managed to get one foot through the now open window before being greeted with two paws firmly pressed against her calf.

With its tongue hanging out, the gray bulldog was hardly what Steph would call intimidating.

"Hey, boy," she whispered, lowering her body onto the floor before Cass slipped in behind her. "Where's your mama?" The dog may have waged his tail happily, but if it hadn't been for Cass knocking her flat to the ground, the rather unfriendly arrow would have likely nailed her in the shoulder.

"Who the hell do you think you are?" came a very angry voice. Stephanie sat up slowly, her hands held out in front of her as a woman dressed in orange and black came forward from the shadows, crossbow already reloaded and aiming at her.

"Check the logo," she called. "We come in peace." She threw her shoulders back, just to make sure the Bat symbol was plenty visible. Both the blonde woman and Cass stayed tense, even as Artemis shifted her way out of the shadows to see them properly.

"Oracle sent us to find you," Cass stated firmly, still not backing down from her protective crouch.

"Did she now?" Artemis asked, eyebrow cocked as she lowered her weapon. "And why didn't the mighty Oracle just hack her way into my comm system if she needed me?"

Stephanie couldn't help the snort that found its way out of her mouth. "Artemis, you haven't worn a comm in over six months." The older woman returned her laugh.

"I keep forgetting that I like you, blondie."

Stephanie smiled. Despite everything, she couldn't help but hope that the night was going to start getting a bit better.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN**: Here we are on chapter three. The boys are very good at getting themselves into messes. This chapter features a lot more of his work and he's really looking forward to some feedback As a disclaimer, I don't own any of the DC characters that you see, or the Young Justice universe, which this is set in. Thanks for reading!

**_Chapter Three_**

Things had not gone as planned. Tim stood helplessly in front of the two men he looked to as brothers.

"We lost him," he squeaked out. God, he hoped Steph was having better luck than he was; he knew he sounded beyond pathetic. Although, if he had to choose between breaking the news to Dick and Jay, or breaking the news to Babs, he'd take these two any day of the week.

"You…Damian's gone?" Dick choked out, springing up from Jason's faded couch. "He's gone?" Tim could only nod. He flinched as Jason let loose a pretty vivid stream of curses. It was impressive, Tim had to give him that. As long and as eloquent as he'd heard since the last time Steph stole all of his cigarettes.

"The kid's a sneaky little fucker, I'll give him that much," Jason said. "Stupid as hell though." Dick came to stand next to Tim, the younger boy could tell he was trying not to lose it completely.

"Tell us everything," he demanded. Tim could tell he was trying not to sound accusatory, only mater of fact. Tim could respect mater of fact. And so, Tim told him everything. How Damian was being really nice to him and Steph. How they came across the mugging. How the little brat had said he was going to help, but then disappeared. Tim knew the disappearing thing was something Damian had to have picked up from his father. He finished with how Steph was already on her way to tell Barbara. It surprised him to hear Dick swearing under his breath. At least Tim figured it was probably swearing; the muttering was done in _Romani._

"We could... head over there now?" Tim offered, already pressing his mask back onto his face, but Dick walked over to a nearby wall, pulling a screen up from his wrist computer. Jason made a dismissive motion with his hand.

"No suggestions, Timmy. You've done enough damage for one night. Grown-ups are handling this now." Jason turned to walk over near Dick, who had moved the screen up onto a wall, a holographic keyboard in front of him. His fingers were racing over it frantically.

"Grown-ups? Aren't you like the least mature one out of all of us, Jay? I mean, even Damian..." The older man rounded on him.

"You're really going to compare me to that mouthy, psycho shit storm of a –" A whistle broke up their argument as Dick looked back at both of them incredulously before motioning to the complex stream of tracking sequences he was typing into the computer. Tim wondered briefly where Jason had been going with that rant – because he may as well have been describing himself.

Jason shrugged nonchalantly and walked deeper into the apartment as Tim scowled, watching over Dick's shoulder. A loud crash made him jump, spinning around as he reached for his bo staff, only to see Jason in the process of loading up.

"Aaa… Jay?" Tim asked as he watched Jason slowly, deliberately, pull the clip out of the grip of a pistol with a silver slider, inspect it to make sure it was fully loaded, shove the clip back in with a clack, and then shove the pistol into the back of his pants. Jason didn't even bother to look up as he walked over and started rifling through a drawer full of magazine clips.

"Yeah Timmy?"

"Do you really think you're going to need three guns?" Tim took a step back as Jason began to laugh.

"Five, Timmy," he said with a smirk, opening up his jacket to reveal his second set of holsters tucked under his armpits. "I have five guns, Timmy." Dick looked back from the screen for a brief second, his eyes flicking over Jason's arsenal.

"I think you might be able to tone it down just a little, Jay," he said, eyes instantly going back to the screen. Tim noticed Jason's full-on eye roll, even if Dick didn't.

"Right," Jason muttered. "Because between my charming personality, your ass, and Timmy's traumatizing fear of the female body, this mission is bound to be successful. As long as Damian's haughty air of superiority hasn't set him free already."

"I got him!" Dick yelled triumphantly, efficiently silencing the protest that was about to spring from Tim's mouth. He and Jason moved quickly to the screen.

"That looks like…" Tim couldn't even bring himself to say the name of the island. If that's where they were headed, there was no doubt Bane was involved in this. He pulled up his own computer, starting to cross reference Bane with any recent activity in the area. The fact that nothing came up was not as comforting as it should have been. "He's been off grid for a while," Tim said, watching as Dick nodded and Jason looked a cross between angry and board out of his mind.

"When do we leave?" Jason asked, this time slipping a small, sheathed, knife into his left boot.

"Wait," Tim interrupted. "We have to tell Barb." He was extremely uncomfortable with the look that passed between his older brothers. "We don't even have a plan!" he yelled trying to get one of them to see reason. Jason he could understand. Jason was the hot head, the one who rushed in to danger headlong and shooting, and if they were lucky, he'd ask some questions on his way out. Tim turned his eyes to Dick, pleading with him. "Dick," he said. "Come on, you know we need a plan; you're the one who taught me that. You're the one who always says…" he trailed off, that frightening gleam tilting off of blue eyes, startling him.

"Not this time, Timmy," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "This time, Bane, and whoever else is with him, they came too close. They went too far."

Tim looked between the two of them, the slight smirk on Jason's face showing his approval. "Fine," he said after a moment. "Let me just patch through to Babs first…" Dick's hand on his wrist made him jump.

"No, Timmy," he said. "I want you to scramble the password to our tracking devices."

"Are you out of your mind?" Tim all but shouted. But Dick just shrugged him off.

"Maybe…" he whispered. And that was all it took for Tim to become scared. He opened up a link on his computer and did what he was asked.

"This is a terrible idea," he said, eyes staying glued to the screen and refusing to look at either one of them.

"I know." Dick replied, his hands scrubbing over his face as Jason finished snapping a few more clips onto his belt.

"I have always hated Santa Prisca," Dick said, causing Tim to look up.

"So…does that mean I should pack some explosives?" Jason offered, already pulling open another drawer.

"Not you too…" Tim sighed, more to himself than anyone else. He already knew no one was going to be paying any attention to his opinions for the rest of the evening. If he had thought the night was going to be rough before, he had been seriously underestimating how bad things could get.

It was time to make a plan. Barbara waited about thirty seconds after the girls had left to make her call. The comm. system she punched herself into was encrypted, but it was nowhere near difficult to hack her way into.

"Selina," she called out. Barbara heard some rustling in the background before the other woman answered.

"You, my dear," came the sultry voice, "Are not supposed to be able to hack this line."

Barbara couldn't help her laughter "And who told you that?" she asked, smirking.

"Who do you think?" Selina answered. Barbara could hear a cat purring in the background. She figured it was probably best Selina was still at home. Barbara wanted to launch right in and tell her, tell her how everything had gone to hell in the last few hours, but she couldn't find her voice. The pause seemed to stretch on forever.

"He's been gone for a while, hasn't he?" Selina said finally.

"Yes." Barbara could hear the disapproval in Selina's voice, the click of her tongue against the roof of her mouth. Despite her less than stellar past, Barbara knew the Cat Burglar turned…well turned something, cared a lot about all of them.

"How are you kids holding up?" she asked, sounding concerned. Barbara wanted to be able to calmly tell her everything, but calm wasn't something she could handle right now with her nerves as frayed as they were…

"I need your help," she blurt out. "The boys…they…" Barbara felt ashamed at the way her voice cracked. She was supposed to be in control. She was supposed to have everything put together, because if she didn't, who would? The slight tinkling of Selina's laughter snapped her back to reality.

"Which one of our dear little bird blunders needs saving this time?" she asked. There was another long pause before Barbara could answer; she could feel more than hear her breathing getting louder.

"Barbara?"

"…All of them…" she whispered. Selina swore on the other end, the sound of broken glass filled the air. Barbara was just glad she wasn't the wall Selina had thrown something at.

"Jesus Christ," she growled. "Who would be that…?"

"The Scarecrow is involved," Barbara interrupted, back to dealing with information. She could handle information. Information was simple. It could be chunked down, analyzed – unlike people, data could be controlled. "Something to do with the fear toxin, but they're cutting it with venom."

"Venom… mixing that… what would that even do?" Selina questioned, an edge to her voice. Barbara could hear her moving around now, the glass being swept up, a cat be shooed out of the way, and the swish of fabric. Her motions sounding hurried.

"I don't know," Barbara answered bitterly. "I think…I think the al Ghul family is involved in this some how." Barbara wasn't ready for the almost inhuman hiss that came from the other line.

"I swear to god if that woman has touched one hair on his…"

"Selina, focus," she begged. "I need information."

"Ha!" Selina laughed. "What makes you think I know anything about that Harpy?" Barabra knew she had to tread lightly; the anger of the older woman was coming across loud and clear.

"Because you keep closer tabs on her than I do. Hatred is a powerful tool." There was a pause from Selina, one that Barbara knew well; she had won this conversation.

"The regular meeting place then?" Selina finally said. "I'll need about ten minutes."

"Yeah." She allowed herself a small smile; she had almost forgotten how much she missed Selina, when she was behaving herself.

Barbara was glad that the "regular meeting place," a bench in the park, was only about five minutes from the Clock Tower as she maneuvered herself along the potholes of Gotham City's sidewalks. The late summer air was still hung heavily in the air making her sweat as she pulled up along side the empty bench. Not too far away, she could see Selina Kyle, dressed all in black, moving towards her, two cups of coffee in her hands, and a purse slung over her shoulder.

"You always know," Barbara said, taking the cup that was offered to her.

"You sounded exhausted over the link," Selina answered, plopping herself down on the bench, hand quickly riffling through the purse. "So, are you ready?"

Barbara nodded, drinking deeply from the coffee, before turning her full attention to Selina.

"There's al Ghul money involved in this. I'd bet all of my nine lives on it," Selina said angrily. "But, as much as I hate to admit it, I think Daddy Dearest is going behind his daughter's back," Selina said, her eyes narrowed. "As much as I want it to be her fault, I don't think she has any idea what's going on." Barbara didn't bother asking how Selina knew this. Frankly, she didn't care how the woman got her information, only that it was reliable, and over the past four years, Selina had never let her down.

"Do we know where?" Barbara asked. She had an idea, an obvious idea, but it seemed too easy.

"I'm only confirming your suspicions," Selina said flatly. "They're on Santa Prisca. So, that's Scarecrow and Bane working together off of al Ghul money?"

"Those idiots," Barbara swore. "They're going in blind."

"You're not in contact with them?" Selina asked, her eyebrows lifting skyward. "I thought… I guess I thought they'd just gone black." Barbara shook her head, draining more from her coffee cup.

"I didn't realize they were collectively that stupid," Selina whispered, her fingers finding Barbara's and squeezing lightly before letting go.

"Dick hasn't been…" Barbara had to stop, her teeth sinking quietly into her bottom lip. "He hasn't been the same since…"  
"I know," Selina interrupted saving Barbara from having to delve into her own emotions. "And it doesn't help when Bruce goes off for weeks at a time to go save the world or whatever," she shook her head with a sigh. "You've got one, still avoiding the reasons he ran away," she began ticking the boys off on her fingers, "another still dealing with the fact that he died. The third convinced he isn't good enough – and finally Damian, who thinks he has to prove to the world he's good enough to be Bruce's son," she finished by clenching her fist. "Sometimes, I think he forgets just how badly those boys still need him." She stood to go, dropping a small flash drive into Barbara's lap.

"What's this?" Barbara asked, already sliding it into her pocket. Selina smirked.

"You probably already have it, but it's a map of the island." Her hand squeezed Barbara's shoulder reassuringly. "If you need me," she said, "call me. I'll come find you wherever you are."

Barbara watched as she left, all hips down the paved path of the park. She fingered the flash drive in her pocket before turning away. A look at her watch let her know that the girls would be back soon. Barbara could help the bitter laughter that came up through her chest. And she had thought the night was going to be a long one _before._

This night had been nothing short of a nightmare. Dick failed to see exactly how it could go any more wrong. He tried, in vain, to figure out how he had gotten from gunning the engine of his motorcycle, laughing with the wind rushing past him and his little brother digging his fingers into his sides to this.

This was Jason, Timmy, and him currently sneaking in the back way to the Batcave. It had been Timmy's idea – to steal…no, "acquire" the Batjet, and it had been Dick's executive decision to break in. He didn't want to have to tell Alfred that they had lost the littlest monster. He hardly wanted to deal with it himself, having to look Alfred in the eye would have been next to impossible. Dick knew he was being irrational. He was supposed to be the adult here, and he just couldn't be. Not when everything falling to pieces around him; not when it was all his fault.

"Hey, Hack Wonder! A little help here?" Jason called, kneeling down next to an exposed computer panel hidden in the rocks.

Dick walked over quickly, his hands scrubbing over his face.

"Override RG-4," he said calmly. Tim spun towards him, eyes blinking in disbelief.

"I can't believe that one still works!" he said, sounding almost giddy.

"Neither can I," Dick agreed with a shrug. He extended his hand smoothly to help Jason up from the ground. The younger man just rolled his eyes.

"Geeks," Jason muttered, "let's get this over with. I'm not looking forward to hotwiring this thing…again." Dick just smiled as he followed him in; trying not to laugh at the incredulous look Tim was sending Jason.

"Jay, exactly how many times have you hotwired one of Bruce's vehicles?"

"This year?" Jason asked, already fishing through one of his pockets.

"Enough," Dick said, effectively ending the conversation. He stood back, giving Tim plenty of space to work, watching nervously as Tim easily bypassed the security system of the jet. No more than three minutes later, he couldn't help but smile as Tim pulled away.

"And we're in," the youngest said with a smile.

Jason was the first one inside, already on his back underneath the control system by the time Dick had made it on board.

"He keeps trying to update the system," Jason called, sounding only slightly irritated.

"Can you do it?" Tim asked. Jason's laughter filled the cockpit.

"Something no woman has ever asked me," he replied, just as the engine roared to life.

Dick rolled his eyes before nudging Jason out of the way with his foot so he could take the controls. He opened up the navigation system, deftly inputting the coordinates from Damian's tracking chip. He really, really hated Santa Prisca.

Three and a half hours later, they were finally nearing Santa Prisca. It was finally because over the course of the trip, Dick had threatened four separate times to use the ejector seat if Jason and Tim hadn't stopped arguing; they'd played the quiet game twelve times; and Jason had checked and rechecked each of his guns at least two dozen times.

Before the island was in view over the horizon, Dick sent the Batjet into a steep dive before pulling up just above the wave tops. He didn't want to give Bane's goons any advance warning that they were coming. A flashing light on the panel in front of him caused his eyes to glance down. Someone, which meant Barbara, was trying to get a lock on their GPS signal.

"Jason."

"What, asshole?"

"The flashing panel to your right. Punch it." There was a stunned silence for a few moments before Jason spoke.

"What?"

"Jason, I'm telling you to break something in this damn plane. Do it before I change my mind." Dick heard a snort of what he could only assume was pure glee from behind him before the crash of glass followed. The flashing light in front of him faded to black.

"Mind telling me what that was?" He knew Jason really didn't care what it was he just broke, but wanted to know if it was something important he could brag about later.

"The jet's GPS tracking system. Babs was trying to find us." Dick turned to see Jason shrug, sliding his gloved hands behind his head. Timmy's eyes were wide.

"Oh she is so going to kill us, isn't she?"

"Boy Worrier, you speak too much." Dick rolled his eyes.

"Don't worry, Timmy. I'll just tell Oracle this was all my fault. She'll believe me. And send my count up a few... hundred more." He pushed the Batjet even lower as the island, still dark in the predawn light, began coming into view. Dick reached above him, hitting a few switches to send the jet into stealth mode. While screaming engines of fire would certainly get them to their destination faster, it would not be so good on the stealthy end of things.

He pulled the Batjet up to just above treetop level as they zipped over the beach. Dick knew from previous missions to the island where the main factory was, and the most likely place Damien was being held. He swung the jet around and set it down in a small clearing about a mile from that location.

After shutting down the Batjet and locking it down as well, Dick led both his brothers down the ramp. As he stepped out, his feet sinking ever so slightly into the most earth of this Caribbean hellhole, Dick heard the unmistakable scrape of metal on leather directly behind him. He twirled, crouching down, only to see Jason standing on the ramp, frozen, a gun in his grip.

"No. Guns." The words were forced out through clenched teeth.

"Aw, c'mon Nightwing. I didn't fly more than three thousand miles just to punch a bunch of guys in the face."

"No, Hood. We flew over three thousand miles to rescue our brother. And since I know you don't carry silencers for those things... no guns." Jason tried to stare his older brother down for a moment before shrugging nonchalantly, holstering his pistol and pulling his helmet down over his head.

The three boys moved quickly but quietly through the jungle. It wasn't the first time any of them had been to the island. Dick's mind drifted back to one of the first times he'd been to Santa Prisca. What had been given as a simple recon mission turned into the entire venom factory being destroyed. He smiled. Jason would have been proud.

The rebuilt factory came into view as they got to the edge of a cliff. Security seemed lighter than Dick remembered it, but he wasn't complaining. The three of them scaled the cliff quickly, dodged a passing guard, and made it to a side door.

Quickly, he started tapping away at his wrist computer while Jason and Timmy stood watch. Dick tapped a few buttons, trying some basic attacks to get past the door's security. Those attacks were rebuffed and he frowned. He hadn't expected higher levels of security on something like a side door.

"Hey, Hack Wonder, let's get a move on. It won't be long before that guard comes back around."

"Because heckling from the peanut gallery makes this whole thing so much easier, Hood." He frowned, as his typing grew more frenetic. The first layer of security was down, but there was something that wasn't right...

"Uh, Nightwing? He's coming back." That was Tim's voice, slightly worried in tone as Dick's fingers continued to fly over his holographic keyboard. He wished Barbara were here.

The door slid open. "Inside. Move." Timmy raced past him into the factory, but Dick had to grab Jason by the collar of his leather coat and drag him into the building before he could grab his gun to aim at the approaching guard. Once inside, Timmy hit a panel beside the door and it slid shut.

The three moved almost silently through the factory. When they found a computer terminal, Dick stopped, hooking a small cord into a port. Timmy looked over his shoulder while Jason sighed heavily.

"I thought we were here to rescue the brat, not check status updates." Jason's voice was low, but a growl. Dick knew he was getting impatient.

"I'm hacking into their security cameras, Red. Unless you suddenly developed a keen sense of smell or the big guy's X-ray vision, this will be the quickest way to find him." Dick's fingers flew over his keyboard. Security inside the factory was easier than the outside. An alarm bell went off in the back of his mind, but he ignored it.

"There!" Timmy pointed to the upper part of the screen, drawing Dick's eyes to a small figure clad in red and black with green combat boots.

"Bingo. Level three, room 16." A few more taps onto the keyboard and Dick smiled. "Security cameras are now all on a loop. Let's move." Dick unplugged his wrist computer from the terminal, and the three were off again.

It took them about twenty minutes, dodging a few factory workers and guards, before they reached the hallway where Damian was being held. Dick kneeled down, reaching into his belt for tools to pick the lock on the door, when suddenly it flew open with a bang, a black booted foot by his head. His eyes narrowed as he glared up at Jason.

"Way to be stealthy, Hood. We're lucky the whole area didn't hear that."

"I'm tired of this sneaking around bullshit, Nightwing. They took our brother. I'm here for a fight." The three of them walked into the room, and Dick immediately cringed. He could tell, even from this distance, that there was something wrong with Damian. He was slumped, mouth open against his collar bone, restraints behind the chair the only thing keeping him even semi-upright.

"Red, check his vitals. Hood, keep watch on the door... quietly."

"And what about you? Observing me standing watch?"

"I'm going to find out what's going on here." Dick quickly moved over to a computer in the room as Timmy rushed over to Damian. Jason shrugged and leaned against the doorframe, his hand resting against a pistol.

Dick slid a small thumb drive into a port on the computer. "What is it with you and these damn computers, Nightwing," came Jason's exasperated voice near the door.

"I want to know why they took Robin, Hood. I want to know what they wanted with him." He punched the enter key and a progress bar appeared on screen. "I'll figure it out back at the cave."

"He's breathing but he's drugged. Something strong. Pulse is pretty weak," Tim said, trying to open Damian's eyes to get a look at his pupils.

"See if you can get him upright. If not, we carry him out." Dick typed a few keystrokes while staring intently at the computer, his foot tapping nervously. The progress bar continued to scroll.

Timmy reached behind Damian to cut the restraints on his wrists. As he did, Damian's chair tipped back ever so slightly. Alarms suddenly rang out all throughout the factory.

"Aw, shit. Carrying him it is." Jason sprinted over to Tim and Damian, helping cut remaining restraints quickly with the knife from his boot before putting his shoulder into the boy's stomach and lifting him over his shoulder. "Time to go, Nightwing."

"I know, I know..." Dick stared at the progress bar for a few seconds until it flashed "Complete". He grabbed the thumb drive out of the port, slid it into his belt, and then destroyed the computer screen with a quick shot from one of his escrima sticks. "Alright, let's get out of here."


	4. Chapter 4

**_AN:_** Thanks for all of the feedback you have given so far. Things start to get a bit more violent and a bit darker from this chapter forward – kinda hope you're as excited for that as we are. As always, we do not own DC comics or any of the related characters.

**_Chapter Four_**

Nothing was how it should have been. Cass sat perched on a table pressed up against the wall. She had made sure her back was to the wall, her eyes able to see everyone in the room at the same time. Every person, and every possible entry into the Clock Tower. She allowed her concentration to shift in and out of the conversation happening around her. While she could understand their words just fine, she preferred to watch. The way the three other women in the room held themselves, their ticks and quarks gave her more than enough information anyway.

"So you're telling me," Artemis's voice cut into Cass's thoughts, drawing her eyes to the only person in the room she didn't trust indisputably, "you're telling me that you found out about a kidnapping plot against Damian Wayne? That you brought this information to the boys, and Dick tried to brush it off?" Cass caught Barbara nodding along. "And then," Artemis continued, "and then the little monster goes out and gets himself kidnapped on purpose?"

Cass found herself nodding along with Barbara this time. She loved Damian, she loved all of her brothers, but there were times that they could be so… so infuriatingly stupid.

"They went after him," Stephanie added in, coming to stand beside Barbara, her hand resting on the older woman's shoulder.

"Not really helping their case, Steph," Barbara said with a heavy sigh. She cocked her head to the side, looking up at Artemis slyly.

"Remember when you and I used to scramble the password for our GPSs?" she asked. Artemis snorted, the corners of her lips quirking up in a smile. Cass couldn't help but like the way she did that.

"You mean when you worked your computer magic? I'm science and literature, Barb. Computers is a Bat-specialty."

"Yeah, well, let's just say I am seriously regretting telling Tim about that." Barbara said with a shrug, her eyes flickering back to a blinking on her screen.

"They want to do this on their own," Cass said, finally allowing herself into the conversation.

The tall blonde spun around, her hand already reaching for the crossbow at her hip. Cass did her best impersonation of a smile. She liked that the archer hadn't realized she was there. Cass liked even more that the other woman was alert and ready for danger. She could appreciate someone with quick instincts even if Artemis did need to work on knowing her surroundings.

"But it doesn't make it okay," Cass added simply. She glanced back at Barbara, who was sighing again.

"No," Artemis agreed. Cass watched the ease with which the archer's hands came away from the weapon, her arms crossing over her chest. "Dick already knows what happens when people decide they need to do things on their own."

The way the silence fell upon the room made Cass want to hold her breath. The looks on both Barbara and Artemis's faces spoke of loss and pain. Even Steph was frozen, all of the energy draining out of her. It was more feelings in one room that Cass was comfortable handling.

"So…" Artemis said finally shattering the dull ache that had been griping the room. "So, are they still in the city?"

"I doubt it," Barbara offered. Cass could tell she was more than happy to be back to work and away from the past. "They'd want to get out, and fast."

Artemis seemed to consider this a moment, her face screwing up in extreme concentration. Cass appreciated that look as well. She decided that it was one she would practice later.

"Doesn't Batman have a plane, or something?" Artemis asked, the tone of her voice suggesting she wasn't completely serious. Cass had been trying very hard lately to better understand tone. The way a person used their words, she was beginning to understand, could be just as important as how they held their bodies.

"Yes," Stephanie supplied. "But, c'mon they wouldn't be that stupid? To steal from the Boss?" Cass began nodding her head from the shadows as she saw Barbara roll her eyes.

"Please," the redhead said. "Jason has hotwired, "borrowed," or otherwise stolen three separate "bat" things this month alone."

Artemis threw her hands into the air. "A plane, the man has a freaking plane."

"Three," Cass offered, her eyes never leavening Barbara who now whipped her chair around to one of her secondary computer screens. Her long fingers flicked out over the keys at a rapid pace.

"I think…" Barbara said, her teeth pulling at her lip anxiously. "I'm locking in on them now!" she announced, one hand clenching quickly in victory, eyes lighting up and following the coordinates as they flew across the screen before –

Cass tried not to flinch as Barbara brought her fist down on the table. "I'm going to kill them," Barbara muttered under her breath. "All of them."

"Give me something, Babs," Artemis begged coming to crouch besides Barbara's chair.

Cass turned her eyes towards Stephanie, watching the way she bounced on the balls of her heels, the way she held her hands close to her sides, and tried to muster up a smile when she finally noticed Cass was watching her. Hope, Cass decided. Stephanie looked like hope.

"The last bit I got from them places them somewhere in the Caribbean," Barbara announced. But the way she said it – Cass thought it sounded defeated; sounded like something Barbara had already know, but desperately wanted to be inaccurate.

"The island?" Artemis and Steph asked at the same time. Barbara nodded grimly.

"It all fits too well," she said apprehension coating every word. "I feel like there were too many clues. I wanted it to be someplace else because then it wouldn't have been so…"

"Obvious?" Steph offered, her eyes darting around to the different computer screens. "It's a trap isn't it?" she asked finally. Barbara wouldn't meet anyone's gaze. No one there needed to hear it aloud. It was a trap, all right, and three boys blinded by their desire to get back their little brother, had just walked right into it.

This was not how Jason had intended to spend his night. It had started out fine, a call from Babs, the promise of food, even if he did have to put up with his "family" to get it. Now he was running, with a pair of stupid green boots bouncing painfully into his stomach.

"Unhand me, peasant," the kid mumbled into his shoulder blade. Jason did not envy the headache Damian was going to have when he finally came back to reality – but it did serve the monster right for being an absolute dumbass. He was far too young to go out looking for so much trouble.

"Not now, Brat." Jason told him over the screech of alarms and the clomping of goons running through the halls after them. Jason was very glad to have Timmy in the lead. All of the hallways had looked the same to him on the way in, and they were only blurring together more as they sprinted towards what he hoped was going to be the exit. He shifted the kid's weight ever so slightly on his shoulder, making damn sure he could still reach a set of holsters.

"How's he doing, Hood?" Nightwing called glancing back at him.

"Heavier than I remember," Jason answered, twisting his body slightly to avoid ramming the kid into the wall as he took the corner a little too fast.

"No!" Jason had to clench his arm tightly around Damian's body as the kid began to struggle. His speech was still slurred as his fits began pounding weakly on Jason's back.

"You're not…no! Take me back!" he demanded.

"I'll get right on that, your highness," Jason bit back. "Nightwing, he doesn't seem very grateful to me." Nightwing just shrugged in front of him.

"Fools…You absolute imbeciles…" Jason couldn't help but wish the drugs had lasted just a little bit longer.

"Tell you what kid," he said. "The next time you go and get yourself kidnapped, we'll just leave you." He paused slightly to readjust, the boots now bouncing against the side of his ribs. Damian responded with a sick moan.

"So help me, _Robin_, if you puke on my jacket, I will drop you." Jason rounded the next corner and just barely avoided running head long into Nightwing, who had apparently not been able to avoid crashing into the back of Red Robin. They had reached a crossroad. Bane's goons were closing in on them from three sides, the fourth, the furthest from the middle of this intersection from hell – was still clear. Dick turned to face him, a grim set to his mouth. Neither one of them needed to discuss what was about to happen.

"Red Robin," Nightwing started, back to being the self assured leader Jason was used to. Timmy spun to face him, his panic evident despite the mask.

"No, Di – Nightwing! Don't do this."

"You're going to take Robin, and you're going to get him out of here."

Jason was already in the process setting the kid down on his feet. Damian managed to remain standing, but barely. The smallest of them swayed dangerously, his hands scrubbing over his face as if that was going to help him clear his mind of the drugs they'd pumped him full of.

"It's a trap," he mumbled weakly.

"No kidding," Jason agreed starting to do a quick head count. He turned to face Timmy. "Take the kid and go," he said, nudging Damian towards Tim.

"No!" Tim replied, but he held out a hand to steady Damian all the same. "I can help, I can …"

"Timmy," Jason said quietly, knowing the Big Guy would have his head for using civilian names in the field. "There comes a time in every man's life where he's got to shut the hell up and do what he's told." The younger boy turned to face him.

"Yeah, and when was that time for you?"

"It hasn't happened yet." Despite the situation, he heard Dick snort sharply. "But your time is now. Do as Dickie Bird says, take the kid, and go. We got this." Tim opened his mouth to protest again, but a short shake of Dick's head cut him off. Resigned, he lowered his head before sliding Damian's arm over his shoulders. With a slight shove to his back, Jason sent the two of them towards the open exit.

Dick watched his two brothers move toward the exit, though certainly not as quickly as he'd hoped. Tim wasn't as strong as Jason, so he wouldn't be carrying Damian, but Dick knew that he and Jason were capable of holding off Bane's thugs long enough for them to escape. They had to.

"So... we got this, huh?" He smiled at Jason as the two of them moved closer to the center of the crossroads, Dick already pulling out his escrima sticks.

"Sure, just like old times," Jason responded, cracking his knuckles as he eyed the goons from under his helmet.

"Back to back?" Dick twirled the escrima sticks in his hands, eyes narrowing as he stared down the thugs who continued advancing closer. He noticed they were leaving their guns holstered, and smiled for small miracles.

"Unless you have a better idea?" He shook his head at Jason's response.

"The last time we fought back to back, you broke my nose. I just wanted to make sure it wasn't going to happen again." There was a pause as Jason's hands dropped to his side.

"That was one. Time. You really need to let that go, Nightwing."

"You broke my nose!"

"Your nose tried to break my fist." Dick shook his head. Jason was almost never intentionally cheery, except when situations seemed most dire. Dick had asked him about it once, and Jason's answer had been something to the effect of when you've died once, the prospect of doing it again doesn't seem nearly as scary.

Dick's attention snapped back into focus as he heard Jason draw one of his pistols. "No guns, Hood."

"But Nightwing..." the younger man motioned vaguely towards the thugs.

"No. Guns. There's only ten of them. We've faced worse odds before."

"How sad is it that we consider ten on two "good" odds?" Dick smirked in response.

"It means he taught us well." Bane's thugs drew closer. "Here we go, for the hundredth time."

Dick took a step forward as two thugs came rushing at him from opposite sides. As it seemed to with all fights, the action seemed to slow for Dick. The guy on his right swung, a long looping punch that Dick had seen, and dodged, countless times before. He didn't think he'd been hit with a shot like that since one of his first missions with Batman. Dick ducked under the wild haymaker, jamming his escrima stick into the goon's kidney. As the man shouted, Dick shifted his weight to his right leg and fired a kick at the other thug's knee. The man went down with a howl as his knee made an unnatural crackling sound. In a flash, Dick stood, swinging his other escrima stick against the back of the first thug's head, sending him crashing down in a heap.

He heard a grunt from behind him and turned to see Jason stagger a few feet, holding his jaw. The bigger man dove at his attacker, tackling him to the ground before mounting him and quickly firing three punches into his face. The goon lay still. Jason quickly jumped off of him to fire two punches into another thug's midsection, before a strong uppercut sent the man flying through the air and crashing back down to earth.

Dick's head turned as a battle cry sounded near him. Pushing a hand into the ground, he launched himself into a back handspring, landing in a crouched position. A much bigger thug continued in, swinging wildly. Dick leaned back from one punch, ducked another, and then went to work. An escrima stick to the man's side, another to the other side, and a shot to each side of his head dazed the man before Dick wound up and used both sticks right across the man's chin, snapping his head around.

With half of the bad guys down, Dick noticed Jason started to show off a little. His hands by his sides, he leaned back twice as a thug swung at him before grabbing the man's collar and throwing him into another. He then calmly walked over and cracked their heads together, effectively ending their nights.

Dick grinned and dropped low as another goon came in, sweeping his leg behind his to send the masked man crashing to the ground. He then planted that same foot as he stood, his leg flying through the air, his heel connecting with a second goon's temple. That man fell like a sack of bricks.

A slight... _cooing_ caught Dick's ear, and he turned, escrima sticks ready only to see Jason holding the last thug in a rear chokehold with one arm, the other hand stroking the top of his head.

"Time to go to sleep, little bad guy," he said, patting him as the man's legs struggled and kicked before finally going still as Jason dropped him to the floor.

"There," Jason said, placing his hands on his hips. "That wasn't so hard was it?" Before Dick could answer, more thugs started streaming in, at least twice as many as before. He turned to look at his younger brother.

"You just had to say it, didn't you?"

Of course he had to say it. Who did Dick think he was, Timmy? Someone who just cracks some skulls, wipes the dirt off his hands, and then wait for Daddy Brucie to tell him what to do next? No. Dick had fought him, and beside him, for too long. Dick knew he was the type of guy to kick an unconscious thug, light a match off his chest, and smoke a cigarette in celebration as he sat on them.

He felt his brother's back against his as the new wave of thugs started coming at them. Jason wasn't sure if this had been Bane's plan, or if this was just when the new guys got here, but this wasn't going to be all fun and games again. Ten on two was something they had both encountered quite often flying around with Batman. This was closer to twenty on two, and even as experienced as they both were from years of training and fighting, Jason didn't like those odds.

As the first thugs reached them, Jason struck. With elbows and fists flying, he leapt into one goon, cracking him across the chin with an elbow. A knee to the stomach and a kick sent him flying back into another goon. The sharp pain of a fist connecting with his midsection pushed the air from Jason's lungs quickly, and he gasped as he ducked another swing. He planted his feet and sent a fist hurtling into the man's chin, a grimace appearing under the mask as he felt pain shooting up his side. There was at least one broken rib there, but he'd fought through worse.

Jason reached back to feel for his brother, but felt nothing but air. He spun, ducking another wild swing as he did so, to see Dick somersaulting and twirling through a gang of enemies at least as big as his. His escrima sticks moved faster than Jason's eye could track, and an explosion of light emitted from the end of one into a thug's chest as Dick electrocuted one of them. Jason smirked, but reached down and pulled out his two guns from his thigh holsters and fired off a few rapid shots from his knees at Bane's thugs. One by one, they started to fall.

"Hood!" Jason knew that was coming. "I told you not to use guns!"

"You told me we were fighting back to back!" He fired off another couple of shots. The advantage of knowing Dick would chastise him was also having a witty comeback waiting. Dick paused for a moment, opening his mouth to say something before back flipping over a lunging attack from another thug.

"Fine, use the guns. Just don't kill them." Jason rolled his eyes. In fact, he rolled his eyes so much he was sure Dick could see it even through his helmet.

"Yes, Oracle." Okay, that one may have been a low blow. But it had been building for most of the night. Jason could tell that it hurt Dick. It physically stunned him. It was the first time Jason had ever seen his older brother freeze in battle, and Dick paid for it with a shot across the jaw from some opportunistic thug. That same opportunistic thug then tried to get in another shot as Dick crumpled to the floor. A well-placed bullet from Jason's pistol through the man's knee ended any notion of that quickly.

And a shot to his kidneys from a goon who had come up on him from behind quickly ended any notion that Jason had that he and Dick had the upper hand in this fight. Jason spun, still on his knees, and sprayed into the crowd of goons. Efficient? No. Effective? The number of howls and thugs dropping to the ground, plus the slowed advance of the gang as a whole told him it was.

He glanced back to check on Dick, who was just getting up from the ground and swung a leg at two thugs trying to keep him there, knocking them flat on their backs. As Jason turned back, a fist connected hard with his jaw, sending the helmet flying from his head. He could still feel the domino mask around his eyes, but now he was pissed. Jason lunged for the helmet, but a kick to his left wrist made his hand go numb. The pistol went flying out of his hand, clattering against the ground. He grimaced in pain and leveled the pistol at the man who had kicked him. A squeeze of the trigger and the man dropped, clutching his shoulder. Jason scurried over and grabbed the helmet, swinging it back around into the thug's head. He lay still.

Getting to his feet, Jason began working methodically. Shoot, shoot, swing helmet, shoot, swing helmet, shoot, click. Use gun as a hammer. Swing helmet. Drop first gun, grab other gun from the ground. Shoot, shoot, swing helmet. He continued to take the sporadic hit once in a while, but he was doing a lot more damage than they were doing to him. But he couldn't help but notice the new wave of thugs streaming into the crossroads. With a yell, he ran right at them, swinging his helmet into two other goons before winding up and launching it as hard as he could at a thug running towards him.

This was not at all how he had intended on spending his night.

Even over an escrima stick electrocuting another of Bane's thugs, Dick heard Jason yell. He saw his younger brother throw, yes throw, his helmet at a new group of goons running into the crossroads. Dick mentally went over the odds in his head. They weren't good to say the least, but Jason's strategy was probably best. Full frontal assault to catch them as off guard as possible. Twirling his escrima sticks, Dick charged into the fray after his brother.

As he reached the outer edge, Jason was already buried deep within the swarming mass, which Dick estimated to be at least thirty strong. Dick swung, one escrima stick connecting with a goon's face before he jumped into the air, contorting his body sideways to avoid a thug diving at him. Rolling off the man's back, he ducked down, swinging a leg out in a sweep that knocked two more thugs to the ground. He planted his escrima sticks into their chests and pressed the end, sending more electricity into their bodies.

But there was a problem. One of his sticks sputtered and died, out of juice. The other had an indicator light on it that said its energy level was dangerously low as well. It seemed he'd have to start doing things the old fashioned way again. In a fluid motion, Dick stood and jumped, launching a spinning kick to a thug's face. Landing back on earth, he swung his escrima sticks rapidly, moving around the blocking attempts of another goon before grabbing the back of the man's head and smashing it down against his raised knee.

Dick could see Jason doing what he did best: brawling. His younger brother was punching, shooting, pistol whipping, and kicking the thugs around him as fast as possible. It wasn't the most efficient form of fighting, but right now simply causing as much pain to the enemy might be the most effective strategy. Dick saw Jason drop a pistol, out of ammunition, and grab two more from his shoulder holsters.

While Jason's brawling mentality was well suited to large numbers of enemies, the sheer concentration of Bane's thugs was making it difficult for Dick to fight the way he preferred. He didn't have the space for his more fluid fighting style, and it was showing. As the thugs pressed in tighter, they began landing more and more shots. One of them pulled a knife and came in swinging wildly, forcing Dick to retreat. One swing sliced through his sleeve, cutting into his skin. A sharp hiss escaped from his lips and Dick leapt back as the thug kept coming. As much as he wanted to keep his attention solely on the knife-wielding thug, a fist flew in and connected with his ribs. Dick fell to one knee, his breathing labored. Another swing of the knife sliced open the chest of his outfit, a thin red line of blood beginning to trickle out. Scowling, Dick took both escrima sticks and brought them up under the man's chin. He flew back into another thug with a crash.

Deciding he needed more distance, Dick back flipped backwards, only to land on the body of a thug either he or Jason had dispatched earlier. Pain like fire shot up his leg, and he let out a small yell as he grabbed at his ankle. Looking up, he saw Jason being grabbed by three thugs, with more trying to pull him to the ground or coming in to take swings at him. A thug stepped forward, laughing lightly.

"Bane said you boys wouldn't be much trouble. Not sure where these fearsome reputations have come from. You're just boys in over your head." Dick smirked through the pain as he got to his feet.

"Yeah, well, we're used to that." Dropping an escrima stick, Dick grabbed a batarang from his belt and threw it at the thug. The man ducked, and the batarang flew past him. He chuckled.

"Looks like you missed, little birdie." A soft chuckle escaped Dick's lips in all the chaos.

"No, it just went over your head," he taunted. Behind the thug, the batarang flew right at the thugs dog piling Jason. It embedded itself into the back of one of the goons for a half second, before exploding with a grey gas. The thugs all started coughing as the gas enveloped them. When it cleared a few seconds later, Jason was standing over a group of unconscious thugs. Dick smiled.

"Neat trick, bird boy, but that won't help you with me." The thug started forward, raising his knife when a shot rang out, catching the man in the back of his knee. As he crumpled down to the ground with an agonized scream, Dick looked up to see Jason aiming a pistol in the thug's direction, nodding as he pulled another from the back of his pants. The older man nodded back at his younger brother as he walked over to the thug, who was still clutching his knee, and sent him into darkness with a kick to his face.

Another of Bane's thugs was sent flying by a kick to the chest when Dick felt a sting in his neck, just above the collar of his armor. He shook his head, not sure what it was, when that old familiar feeling began creeping up on him.

That feeling like the walls were closing in. That feeling like he couldn't breathe. That feeling like he was failing, over and over again. He stumbled. Dick tried to rub his eyes through his mask. It literally felt like the walls were actually moving closer, like the floor was tilting wildly. He blinked heavily, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment, opening them just in time to see an assailant come at him, swinging wildly. Dick barely ducked, more like staggered, out of the way, and landed his foot into the back of the man's knee as he tried to catch his breath.

What was happening? He hadn't had a panic attack like this in years, not since... not since Wally died. That one had lasted for hours. He shook his head again, trying to push back the walls that were closing in through shear force of will. '_Snap out of it, Grayson,_' he thought to himself. '_You're better than this; you can beat this. Just breathe._'

He started sucking in deep, slow breaths and the world started closing in a little less. Things seemed to stabilize. Not return to normal. No, normal was a long way off with whatever he'd been hit with. But it seemed like he was starting to improve. And that, in and of itself, was a good thing. The goon whose knee he'd ruined started to turn, reaching for something. An escrima stick to the head ended any notion of that quickly.

What was happening? His mind was so cloudy, his vision so blurry. He again started to feel like he couldn't breathe. How long had it been since fear had overtaken him like this? The word struck him. Fear. He'd been hit with something, he knew that, and it had instantly triggered a panic attack. There was only one man who he knew could do this. Dick staggered again, holding his head.

"Hood..." he managed to rasp out, before a hand wrapped around his chest. Dick felt a body behind his, and then cold metal pressed against his neck.

Jason heard Dick call his name, even over the repeated staccato of his pistols. His aim was getting, well, let's just say he wasn't taking Dick's earlier order of "just don't kill them" quite as much to heart anymore. Jason wasn't aiming for kill shots, he just didn't particularly care if they died at the moment. Jason fired another shot, which was followed by another of Bane's goons crumpling to the floor. There wasn't even enough time to pivot towards Dick before the next voice spoke.

"That's enough, Red Hood." The voice was sharp, guttural, and modified. Jason knew who it was before he even turned to look, a pistol raised at the voice's owner.

"Scarecrow." The burlap bag mask for a face with glowing red eyes and a gas mask for a mouth was recognizable anywhere. He held a silver applicator gun to Dick's neck, and Jason's pistol was aiming directly for his forehead. "Give it up, hay bag. It's a pretty easy shot from this range." His other hand held his second pistol in the opposite direction, attempting to deter any remaining thugs from thinking now would be a good time to make a run at him. A twitch of movement from one of the goons drew his eye from Dick for the briefest of seconds.

"That may be, Red Hood, but it's also a pretty easy shot from _this_ range." Scarecrow squeezed his finger on the applicator's trigger as Jason's eyes flashed back to him, and Jason immediately saw Dick's body seize. His own finger tightened on the trigger of the pistol he held.

"I said that's enough, Mister Hood. Lower your weapons, or he gets a third dose. And I'm quite sure that will kill him. I'd rather not do that."

"A third dose of what, Scarecrow?" Jason's voice remained hard; his eyes focused on the glowing red targets the man holding his brother was providing for him. He knew Dick wasn't faking. Scarecrow never would have been able to get the jump on him when the original Boy Wonder was one hundred percent. And Dick's reaction after Scarecrow injected him a second time wasn't acting. Something was in that vial, Jason just didn't know what. He did not lower his pistols.

"A new and improved Nightmare toxin, Red Hood. Combined with venom, it's now more powerful, more concentrated. It _feeds_ off adrenaline. Adrenaline makes it work faster, more potently. The nightmares are said to be much more... vivid." Jason watched as Scarecrow pulled Dick even closer to him, the man's thump flicking over another switch on the applicator, loading a third dose. "To be quite honest, I'm not sure what I've already given Nightwing won't kill him. I've never tried giving someone a double dose before. But I know a third will end his life. Put your weapons down." Jason hesitated again. So that's why they'd kidnapped the little brat. They wanted someone to experiment on who had experience with high doses of adrenaline. Or maybe it was just a trap set up for the rest of the bat boys, one they had all plunged into headlong. Jason's jaw clenched before his arms relaxed.

"Don't kill him, Scarecrow. I..." he swallowed hard. His next words sounded like they were being squeezed out of him. In a sense, they were. "I surrender." As Jason flipped the pistols around so they were facing grip out in his hands, he saw Dick's eyes roll back into his head.


	5. Chapter 5

**AN:** So this chapter was a little painful to write, but it was an interesting journey. Again, we don't own anyone from the DCU. And thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed – it means the world.

**_Chapter Five_**

The second shot of the new and improved Nightmare toxin had hit Dick with more force than any punch he'd ever received in his life. It was almost as if he could feel his veins open, feel the adrenaline pump into his system, a blazing fire and cooling water combined. He could literally feel his pupils dilate as his vision swam, and became fuzzy as he tried to blink it away. Dick could see Jason, extending his pistols, surrendering. He didn't know if Tim and Damian had gotten away; he hoped they had. Holding off enemies was something Dick Grayson was a practiced hand in, and Jason was one of the toughest men he knew, Bruce included. They could hold off long enough for help to arrive. Dick didn't know it yet, but that was the last rational thought he'd have for a while.

His eyes rolled back into his head.

When he opened his eyes, Dick was standing on a platform high above a dirt floor. The top of the black and orange circus tent was so close he could almost touch it. Dick glanced down; his clothes had changed. Instead of his Nightwing outfit, he now wore navy blue pants, and a red, sleeveless spandex top with gold wings near his ribs. As he looked up, the crowd roared.

"And now, for their final trick, the magnificent Flying Graysons will perform without the aid of a net." Dick immediately recognized the voice as belonging to Jack Haley, but couldn't see him. In fact, he couldn't see the crowd that roared its approval either, ready for the family, his family's famous final act. Movement to his right caught his eye, and he froze as he saw red hair cascading down the back of a costume similar to his own.

"Mom!" The words were shouted, but his mother made no movement that she could hear him. "MOM!" Her head turned ever so slightly.

"Stay here, my little robin," her voice was soft, familiar. A smile creased her face. "Stay here where it is safe." Dick saw her leap from the platform, her hands clenched around the trapeze. Movement to his left startled him for a moment, and he saw his father wink before leaping out as well. Across the tent, his aunt, uncle, and cousin all swung outward for the daring final act.

Everything moved in slow motion. He wanted to scream a warning, wanted to tell them to stop, to come back to the platform. To come back to where it was safe. Dick knew exactly where to look, knew where to spot the rope snapping. He heard the shriek of the crowd. The shriek from his mother. They all fell in slow motion, eyes wide, terror painting their faces as they fell, rather than flew, through the air.

Dick placed a hand against the support beam holding the platform and lunged off after his family. Things moved quicker now, but so did his brain. If he could catch them, he could turn and use his grappling hook, save them. One of his own hands brushing against his hip told him that his utility belt, and therefore his grappling hook, was not there. It didn't matter. If he could just catch them, he could find a way to save them. If he could just catch them, he could find a way to save them all.

He drew closer to his mother, his arms outstretched for her as she reached back for him. Dick stretched, trying to increase his reach, trying for every inch he could get. If he could just catch her, he could save her.

The ground was approaching fast behind her. And then it wasn't. The ground opened up into a massive black hole, a maw to swallow them all as they fell. Dick still stretched out his hands to his mother. If he could just catch her, he could save her.

His eyes were locked with hers. Dick's fingers inched outward, almost brushing hers. And then she disappeared. Her image, her form, dissolved into the blackness. That same blackness swallowed Dick's scream, and he turned at the very last instant to the see the final speck of orange and black from the circus tent blink away as he continued to fall.

Jason did his best impersonation of the infamous Batman scowl as he was marched down the hallway, one of his own guns pressing tightly in to the back of his head. Four goons had been appropriated, just for him. He had one on either side, each gripping an arm. Two more walked behind him, the one on the left holding the gun to the base of his skull. They didn't need to bother, Jason wasn't going anywhere. Not while two other men dragged the unconscious Nightwing in front of him. Scarecrow was at the head of this precession from Hell.

"My associate has already been notified of your capture," the masked man informed him. "It won't be too long before all four of you can be reunited."

"Fat chance," Jason scoffed. "Those kids are already off the fucking island by now." He hopped they were at least out of the factory.

"Your bravado is amusing, if unnecessary," Scarecrow informed him coldly. "Besides, I feel as though they wouldn't leave you and Nightwing behind. You're always looking out for each other, aren't you? Isn't that what got you into this mess?"

Jason didn't answer. It was pretty hard to think up some scathing remark while Dick spasmed on the floor in front of him. He could feel his stomach twisting in knots. How the hell was he going to get them out of this?

"Here we are!" Scarecrow chirped happily as he came to a stop. He turned to address the two men dragging Dick. "Get him tied to the chair and hooked up to the monitor. I don't want to miss any more of these beautiful visions he must be having."

"If you think for one minute that I'm going to let him out of my-" Jason started to yell as the men pulled Dick through the door. Scarecrow waved off his concerns, as well as the man pressing the cold steal of his pistol into his head.

"Mister Hood, please. You're in no position to make demands. However, this room here is for you, and the two younger brats once they've been found." He opened this door with a flourish. "From here, you'll be able to see everything." The men holding him shoved Jason roughly into the room, almost sending him to his knees. He stumbled to a stop in front of a ceiling to floor window. On the other side of the glass, Dick was being manhandled into a chair.

The original Boy Wonder twisted and jerked, his head slamming against the chair back as they pressed small pads onto his temples. The Scarecrow came to stand in the doorway, just far enough out of Jason's reach.

"_If_ he comes to, he won't see anything but a mirror, himself – his own suffering. But you…you'll get to see every painful twitch and shudder. You'll be able to hear every pathetic, wounded moan escape his lips." Jason wanted to rush him, to make him hurt, to break something, but he knew whatever he did would only bring Dick more pain. He would bide his time, for now. "Don't worry, Red Hood, you'll be able to see everything, even the visions in his head." With a click of a remote, a large screen descended from the ceiling in Dick's room. "My men already have it recording, but I'll wait to turn it on until you have some more company, hmm? Enjoy the show, Mister Hood." And with that, the Scarecrow exited, the door slamming shut behind him.

Jason could feel his stomach drop as he turned his eyes towards Nightwing. He already knew about some of the things that haunted Dick's dreams. The two of them had spent long nights in Eastern Europe drinking and fighting each other instead of dealing with their own demons. He wasn't sure he was prepared to witness them first hand.

The deep purple of the bioship's interior wall stared back at him. Dick felt M'gann expertly swing her baby around and lower it towards the ground. The second the white daylight of the arctic pierced the darkness of the bioship's hold, he was sprinting out. Dick was vaguely aware of Artemis right beside him, but his larger concern was the spinning tornado of energy in front of him. It was the magnetic field disrupter gone chrysalis, and the only hope of stopping it was the three speedsters currently running in the opposite direction of the energy tornado's flow. Well, two speedsters and his best friend.

"Come on. Enjoy the moment, my friend. You've earned it." Wally's last words echoed in his head. Dick knew what was coming. This scene had replayed over in his mind dozens, if not hundreds, of times in the past three-plus years.

"Look, it's working! They're shutting it down!" Dick heard the words come out of his mouth, saw his arm point towards the stream of energy the speedsters were putting out to counter the chrysalis. But he wasn't making those movements. He wasn't saying those words. It was like he was a spectator inside his own body to a movie he had seen far too many times, to a film he already knew the heart-wrenching, horrible ending to.

And then everything slowed down. He could suddenly see the speedsters running. Dick could see Barry and Bart, clear as day, but saw his best friend like he was looking right through him. Wally's outline was hollow, nearly transparent. Barry was next to him, shouting words that Dick couldn't hear. And that's when Dick saw the flash. Not The Flash, though he could still see Barry running clear as anything. No, he saw the flash, that flash that signaled that his best friend, the Robin to his Batman, was gone.

Later, Dick knew Jamie's scarab would explain that Wally had "ceased", as it called it. That his physical form was no longer present. But as the chrysalis ended and the smoke cleared, Dick already knew what he would find as he ran towards it. His mind wanted to scream.

"Wally. Wally! WALLY!" He didn't even mentally register Artemis' plaintive plea for her boyfriend, or Barry's words to her. He'd heard them all before, both as they happened and in his nightmares since. He knew every haunting syllable, all thirteen of them. Every single syllable that said Wally was gone. He watched Artemis drop to the ground, watched M'gann rush to her side, and exchanged a long look with Kaldur. Wally was gone, and it was all his fault. As tears began to well up in his eyes, Dick's head bowed towards the ground as the world faded to black again.

This night was undoubtedly working its way towards being one of Tim's least favorite nights. _Ever_. And that was saying something. He wasn't ready to call it the worst, not yet, but he knew it was far from over. There was plenty of time for them to all die horribly.

"Idiots," Damian half moaned next to him. "You're all complete morons…" Tim didn't have time to deal with the kid's mouth. He placed a hand over it gently, afraid he might bite him, or worse yet, puke on him. They were currently hiding behind a stack of industrial strength storage crates, and Tim really, _really_, didn't feel like attracting the attention of the men currently stomping past them.

"Listen, _Robin_," he hissed directly into Damian's ear. "When we get out of here and Oracle is finished murdering all of us, then you can say whatever you want. But until then, shut up and just be rescued."

Damian shuddered violently in his grip, making Tim pull back slightly. The youngest Wayne turned his eyes to meet him sadly.

"You don't get it…" he whispered, looking the most remorseful Tim had ever seen. "Scarecrow…he wanted you here…he…" But he couldn't continue, his head lulling down against his chest. Whatever Damian had been drugged with, it was strong. Either that, or he'd been given a dose much too big for his small size. Tim grabbed him, tightly pressing him up against the wall, mentally willing him to stay awake.

"Scarecrow?" he asked as loudly as he dared. He shook Damian slightly. "Come on, D, stay with me. Tell me about Scarecrow."

Tim did his best to breathe deeply and not to scream as Damian struggled to remain conscious. Whenever anyone started listing Batman's worst villains they always started with the Joker. Everyone agreed that he was a sadistic madman; Tim didn't disagree with them either. He couldn't. Not after everything that psycho had done. But as to whom the second worst villain was? Each of the Robins had their own opinion there. Different people would pick different villains depending on positive and negative interactions. Dick, for example, took an extreme issue with Two Face, as there was some suspicion Zucco might have working for Dent when he killed the Flying Graysons. Then there was the time Bruce's ol' pal Harvey took a baseball bat to Dick and well… yeah.

Tim, however, placed another villain a lot higher than most. The Scarecrow. Dr. Jonathan Crane had found a way to master fear – to make it obey his whims, and that thought placed the Scarecrow pretty high above the other villains in Tim's book. And now he was suppose to believe that man was here, that his toxin had somehow been made stronger?

"Come on," he pleaded, fingers gripping Damian's arms tightly. "Talk to me."

"Him and Bane," Damian managed to croak out. "New formula…nightmares." The kid shook himself fully, his eyes snapping open wider as he became more cognizant of his surroundings. "Where are the others?" he asked, a hint of desperation in his voice. His blue eyes darted around, taking in every detail of his surroundings.

"You were there," Tim told him. "We got ambushed. Hood and Nightwing handed you off to me and told us to run."

"And you listened?!" he demanded, his fingers digging into Tim's flesh.

"It isn't like I had much of a choice!" Tim shot back, shoving the kid from him slightly, only to regret it as he teetered and sat back on the floor. "You weren't exactly in fighting condition!"

"He's going to get them," Damian insisted darkly, dropping his head into his hands. "He wants them as test subjects. Dr. Crane has a new formula… that's why I was kidnapped." Tim swallowed heavily as the realization hit him.

"We have to go back," he said. "We have to go to them. They don't even have gas masks with them."

"They won't need them, Niños." There came another voice from Tim's worst nightmares. "This new formula has to be introduced directly into the bloodstream. It's a kink we're still trying to work out." Tim felt his blood run cold, watched as the grim resignation hit Damian's face, seconds before Bane's hand wrapped tightly around his throat from behind. Effortlessly, Bane lifted Tim from his feet and slammed him quickly against the wall. Somehow, ears ringing, Tim managed to stay conscious.

"Stop it," he heard Damian demand as he scrambled weakly to his feet. Damian swayed unsteadily, completely undermining his authoritative tone. "We'll go with you."

"Of course you will," Bane offered with a smile. "We wouldn't want you to miss the show."

"Show?" Tim asked, trying his best to resist the way Bane was currently steering him down the hall. Bane's laughter rang sickly through his ears.

"Sí, un espectáculo grande. We'll have him all hooked up so you can see his nightmares."

Tim didn't let himself start to wonder which of his older brothers had been dosed with the toxin. He didn't want to let himself start trying to imagin which of their nightmares and fears he'd soon be seeing first hand. So instead he focused on the number of doors they passed on their way. By the time they'd gotten to door number fifty-two, they were greeted by a group of Bane's lackies. Both he and Damian were patted down, belts taken, before being shoved roughly through the door.

Jason stood before them. He was a little bloody and probabaly pretty bruised, but he didn't look like he was fighting any invisible monsters. At least not yet. Tim's eyes searched the room frantically for any sign of Dick. Jason flicked his head angerly towards what appeared to be a window, proabaly a two way mirrior.

On the other side Dick sat tied tightly to a chair, his eyes closed, but his body twitching violently agiasnt his restraints.

"Now that you're all here," came the modified voice of Doctor Johnathan Crane. "It's time to turn on the video screens. Let's see what your Nightwing is afraid of shall we?" The screen flashed to life before their eyes, the pictures in Dick's head up for all to see.

Tim swallowed hard, already knowing that little brothers were never meant to see the things that hanuted the dreams of their older brothers. They were not supsoed to know that kind of fear.

Dick bolted upright, his eyes flying open. His breathing was heavy, labored, and his costume felt oppressively tight. He'd been sweating, profusely, but as his breathing began to normalize he realized something else. He'd been sleeping. Damian getting captured, the mission going horribly wrong, watching his parents die, watching Wally die, it had all been a dream. A horrible dream to be sure, but a dream nonetheless.

"Robin, are you on scene yet?" Dick jumped at the sound of Bruce's voice in his ear. He hadn't realized he'd fallen asleep with his communicator on. While he wondered why he hadn't heard the previous radio communications from Batman, he figured they must have just been keeping radio silence until now.

"Just arrived. Two trucks out front, no markings. No bozos, either. They must already be inside." Dick was slightly surprised to hear Tim's voice, as he'd been expecting Damian's. Bringing up his wrist computer, he quickly located Tim's signal. Business district... right down the street from Wayne Enterprises. That was worrying, and no wonder Bruce sounded concerned. But why wasn't Bruce there with Tim?

"You rest up, Bats. We'll handle this." We?

'Oh, no," Dick thought. 'He's alone with Damian, they're going to kill each other...' Quickly hopping off his bed, Dick looked around his sparse Gotham flat. He walked over to a wall that was peeling wallpaper as if it was viciously offended by it and tapped three times. A small portion of the wall slid away, revealing a safe that scanned his retinas. After it opened, Dick removed the necessary supplies, stuffing them into his belt. He thought about grabbing double, just in case he had to break up Damian and Tim, but hoped his mere presence would be enough.

His motorcycle was parked out in the alley, right where he always left it. With a familiar and satisfying roar, it came to life, and soon he was speeding towards downtown Gotham, towards the business district.

When he arrived at the building where Tim's locator signal was coming from, Dick could see the two black trucks the younger boy had described. Parking his motorcycle behind some other cars, he sprinted to the edge of the construction site and fired his grappling hook straight up, feeling it catch and lift him into the air.

After repeating this step a few times, his wrist computer indicated he was a level above where the younger Robin was. Moving stealthily along a support beam, Dick saw the outline of someone dart across a shadow below him. Just as he was about to drop down to that level, another shadow darted out from behind a stack of building supplies, a bo staff whirling at the first shadow's head. The first man dropped like a brick, and as he hit the floor, his head dropped into a sliver of light provided by the moon. Dick stopped as he saw the man wearing a Joker mask.

As he crouched to leap down, Tim turned and motioned to someone out of Dick's line of vision. But all it took was a flash of red hair to make him freeze. Barbara? Here? As Batgirl and walking? The questions mounted faster. The mission had been a dream, seeing his parents die and seeing Wally die had been nightmares. Seeing Barbara here, did that mean that the last five-plus years was a dream? Had he never gone and found Jason in Eastern Europe? Had he never left her, the team? Had he never broken her heart?

Dick decided not wait for the answers. He jumped down, sprinting over to them. Dick knew there were still enemies in the area, but at the at moment he didn't care. Barbara was walking again, she seemed happy. It was everything he wanted for her.

"Robin, Batgirl!" He nearly shouted their names. They didn't react. Dick ran up until he was almost behind them. Neither acknowledged his presence.

"Nice job there, Robin," Barbara said, rubbing her gloved hand through the younger man's hair. "He never saw you coming."

"Thanks, Batgirl." Though Barbara turned to sprint away, Dick noticed Tim's eyes following her for the briefest of seconds before following after her. As Dick opened his mouth to say something, two goons jumped out from the shadows, both wearing Joker masks. Barbara leapt at one of them, spinning as she aimed a kick at his face. Tim went after the other, his bo staff flashing in the darkness.

As Dick watched the two of them move with a practiced choreography that he and Barbara used to have, two more goons appeared around the corner behind him. Dick turned, hands rising into a battle-ready stance, but the two goons did not seem to be interested in him. Both seemed fixated on the fight going on behind the original Boy Wonder.

Dick swung at the first goon to come within range, a fist aimed straight for the center of the man's face. Except his fist passed straight through it. And not just the man's face, the follow through carried Dick's body through the goon's as well. But that meant...

'NO!' Dick screamed the word, even though he knew no one could hear it. This was another nightmare, another one of the visions brought on by Scarecrow's... whatever it was.

The goons charged at his two former partners. Both began fighting faster, more frantically. They weren't choreographing their moves together anymore, now it was more about survival. Dick recognized the patterns, the problems. Tim, more used to fighting with Bruce, was struggling to hold his own against the two goons, since Batman usually attracted more of the attention. And Barbara, used to fighting with him, wasn't getting the type of support she was used to in battle.

Slowly, the fight began to move Barbara and Tim apart. There was nothing Dick could do, even though he wanted to. He wanted to so badly, he wanted to save them, wanted to help them, wanted to stop what he could only assume was the calamity coming next.

And then he saw it. The open door. A side kick from a Joker-masked thug sent Barbara flying through that door, which promptly closed, shutting her off from Tim. From help. Dick began sprinting. If he could pass through a goon, he was sure that he could pass through a wall. And if he couldn't, he was bound and determined to break through it.

As he approached the wall dividing Barbara from him, from the world, everything went silent. So silent he could no longer hear the sounds of the fight, or his frantic, sprinting steps, or his breathing. He couldn't hear the pulsating beat of his own heart. Instead, he only heard one sound.

_Click_.

A gun cocking. Dick leapt, flying through the wall, which was left unscathed. He stumbled to a halt inside the room. The scene in front of him froze, parts of seconds seeming to take full minutes.

Next to him, he saw the Joker, a sadistic smile coating his face, a small black gun held in his hand. In front of him, and Dick, knelt Barbara, hands on the ground, still wheezing, still trying to recover from having the wind knocked out of her by the goon's kick.

He saw it all. The Joker's finger slowly tightening on the trigger. Barbara's eyes widening as she glanced up. The sweat running from under her mask. The Joker's pulse quickening, a vein in his neck bulging.

But the slowness of the scene also allowed Dick to see something else. He could see his reflection in Barbara's eyes. His sleek form, blue bird emblazoned across his chest... and a black gun in his hand. As her eyes locked with his, she gasped out a word, still trying to breathe.

"Dick..."

The gun went off. Barbara slumped to the ground. Everything went black.


End file.
